Breath of Life
by ivory-sword
Summary: Clara dreams of becoming a star journalist for Detroit Today. What she doesn't expect is to go undercover—as an android. Clara sees android injustice first-hand, and when she meets Connor, the deviant-hunting prototype, she is thrown into the beginning of an android revolution. Clara and Connor must decide whose side they are on and confront feelings that shouldn't be possible.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **So I said I would be done writing fan fictions once I finished my Avengers series _BUT _then my friend brought this game over to play with me about a year ago and suddenly I _had_ to write another story. I started this story shortly after that but stopped when I realized I'd probably never play the game again since I didn't own a PS4 myself. But then a few months later I did end up playing the game again with my friend. That time I went out and bought my own PS4 so I could play it whenever I wanted because I loved it so much. Anyway, long story short, I fell in love with Connor's character and had to write a story with him. I just love the concept of androids and whether or not they have souls and are sentient beings. It's fascinating, and Connor is just such a genuine character.

This story follows the game, but I have only included a few direct scenes where I thought it was important to get inside Connor's head. It follows his story as well as my OC Clara (pronounced Cl_ah_-rah with a long A). It will go past where the game ends and fills in some details that the game doesn't go into. I'm not done writing it yet, but I have written over 300 type-written pages. I wanted to get far enough to know I was going to stick with it before posting as I do sometimes go long stretches without posting/writing in my stories.

I changed the rating from M to T because I realized when you're searching for stories, it automatically filters out any rated M and I don't want to discourage anyone from reading. Basically if you've played the game, the language and themes are right on that same level. It's pretty clean, just a little coarse language and some darker themes including violence, rape, and abuse. Again, nothing the gamed doesn't already have in it.

I'm trying out first person present tense which is not my usual tense or pov so I apologize in advance if I slip into past tense at any point. I'm trying to edit carefully, but it's so easy to slip back! I'm happy to hear from you, but I'm really not looking for critiques as I am just writing this for pure fun. I'm going to try to post at least once a week if not a little more often, but I'll get the first few chapters out right away to get the story going.

Thank you in advance for reading! I'm so excited to share this story and hope you enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

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**Part One: I Am Android**

**1 Detroit 8.15.2038**

**Clara**

I pass the protesters in the streets every day, their signs held high with the conviction of their beliefs. I wonder how many of them even know what they're protesting, if they fully understand it, or if they're caught up in their ignorant prejudices. It's always surprising how little some haters know about the thing they profess to hate like they can't be bothered to actually learn something, like acceptance and having an open mind is a concept for tree-hugging hippies or, in this case, android-loving saps. Ever since androids were first introduced to the world in 2018 after Elijah Kamski founded CyberLife, people had been in a riot about them. Androids looked human and they took human jobs away; real as they appeared, they were robots, so you didn't have to pay them. They could do things too dangerous for humans, they weren't susceptible to disease, they didn't die of old age. Because of this, a lot of people feared they would one day be replaced by these human replicates. The rich could afford them while the poor lost their jobs to them. Unemployment was at a record high of 28% and expected to keep climbing as new models came out.

Some extremists thought androids would one day take over the world, kill all the humans and replace them. There had been rumors of androids going rogue though CyberLife refused to confirm this. '_Deviants'_ was the word going around the presses. Androids had no rights because they weren't considered human. That some of them were rising up against that complicated the issue. If the deviants were protesting, did that mean they were more than robots whose only purpose was to serve humans? Did that mean they had personalities? Souls? Consciences? Did that make them _human_?

"CyberLife is determined to cover up these_ 'deviations'_, but this is the story of the century. Are androids, in fact, human? Can they think for themselves? Are these deviants just experiencing a glitch in their system, or are they rebelling? These are the questions that need to be answered, and _we're_ going to be answering them first." Dylan Horowitz slams his tablet onto the table making one of the interns jump. I remember when I was in the intern's shoes—fresh out of college, glasses sliding down my nose because I was too busy taking notes to push them up. Now, I make bets along with the rest of the journalists on how many tablets Horowitz will break this month in his fits of passion.

I reach for my coffee cup, the caffeine buzz from my first cup fading. _I__'__m Nosey_, the cup denotes in bold red letters. A Christmas present from my sister-in-law.

"Right now we've got nothing because CyberLife's spokespeople are close-mouthed sons of bitches who care more about protecting the company than keeping the public safe from malfunctioning robots."

I think I see a little spittle fly from his lips which is why I'm sitting toward the far end of the long table.

"So they're good at their jobs?" Anthony 'Tony' Lazaro says, earning himself a scowl from Horowitz.

"If CyberLife won't explain to us why these androids are suddenly rebelling, we need to take a closer look ourselves." His neck is turning red which is a sure sign he's about to come up with some crazy idea for a story. "We need an insider's glimpse into the life of an android."

Silence around the room, but that isn't unusual after he pitches his ideas. Since he's the boss, we can't really tell him most of his ideas are bat-shit crazy, but we're all thinking it.

"_Detroit Today_ will have this story, so don't try to argue on this." No one had spoken, but he gives the room a challenging stare anyway.

"What do you mean by 'an insider's glimpse'?" Gloria Perez asks, raising her pen in the air as if ready to write the article here and now.

"To fully understand these androids—what their motives are _if_ they even have motives—we need to experience what they experience. We're putting someone on the ground."

I hear a chuckle from the intern and send up a silent prayer that he'll try to disguise it with a cough.

"Something funny?" Horowitz asks.

"I just…it sounds like you're suggesting someone go undercover _as_ an android," the kid says, glancing around the room like he expects us to start laughing with him. We don't. He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "How would we do that?"

In reply, Horowitz tosses something onto the table. It hits with a ping, rolling a little before it vibrates to a stop. It's an android LED.

Tony whistles. "Where the fuck did you get that?"

"I have connections," Horowitz shrugs. He didn't get to be editor-in-chief by playing it safe. Even I'm a little impressed. I've never seen one _not_ attached to the side of an android's head, and I'm afraid to ask if they pried it off of one. "This thing'll disguise a reporter long enough to write a story. It's off an AP700 model, already has an identity and everything. Now all we need is the reporter who has the balls to take the assignment. And," he says after a pause, "who can play the role."

No one speaks up. I'd die for a star story, but I'm still writing a tiny human-interest section that no one ever reads. I haven't really had a chance in the field yet though I know I could handle it. But this assignment sounds crazy even to me. It's risky, and so much could go wrong.

"Clara." I start at the sound of my name. Horowitz is looking right at me. I have to glance over my shoulder just to be sure because I don't think he's ever made direct eye contact with me before. "I don't see any other Claras in the room," he says, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. I flush.

"Yes, sir?"

"You're it."

"Pardon?"

"You're on the story. Your writing's way too good for those crap columns you publish. Plus, you look the closest to the AP700 model this LED came from." He says that like an afterthought, but I choose to focus on him saying my writing is good.

"I…" I don't know what to say. My mind hasn't quite caught up to what he's saying yet.

"Do it or quit. I don't really care, but you're the only one who can pull it off out of these blood-suckers."

And really everyone in the room is glaring daggers at me except Tony who gives me a thumbs up. This article could _make_ any one of us, but Horowitz has chosen me.

"I won't let you down?" It comes out as a question.

"My office first thing tomorrow." He swipes a finger across his tablet and my own dings as a picture fills the screen. It's an AP700 android that does look shockingly similar to my own appearance—at least if you don't look too closely. "And make sure you look more like her by then."

We have the same reddish brown hair, the same vivid blue eyes though hers are a subtler shade. Where my hair is long and tangled, hers is cut in a neat, shoulder-length bob, each strand as straight and silky as a shampoo commercial model. She wears more makeup, or perhaps her face is always like that. She's a housekeeper model meant to do dishes and cook, but she looks like she's spent hours on her appearance.

"Dismissed," Horowitz says before I can question the assignment any more.

The intern's staring at me as everyone else files out of the room.

"What?" I ask him, voice coming out sharper than I'd meant.

He shrugs. "Just seems weird that he didn't assign a more senior writer to the story. This could be _big_. I mean _damn_, he even got an LED. I wonder if he pried it off the robot himself."

"Well, your opinions mean less than the garbage you write, so why don't you keep them to yourself?" I growl at him, standing and snatching my mug and tablet. I send him my most scathing glare and am satisfied to see him shrink back in his chair a little.

"Bitch," he mutters as I leave the room. I kind of want to dump the rest of my coffee over his head, but I content myself with stealing his favorite pen off his jumbled mess of a desk and tossing it into the wastebasket.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **So I just wanted to clarify that Connor does, in fact, save Dewey. He will always save Dewey (the fish). I'm writing this like what I call a 'happy play-through' where Connor and Hank are besties and everyone lives at the end.

* * *

**2 Detroit 8.15.2038 **

**09:01 pm **

**Phillips's Penthouse, rooftop**

**Connor**

I stand at the very edge of the rooftop where the deviant android named Daniel had held a human girl hostage moments before. Its blue blood is splattered across the concrete where sniper rifles tore away chunks of synthetic skin. The android has shut down, ice blue eyes open, unseeing, but it remains kneeling in an unnatural position. Machines don't die the same way as humans, and I know that can be unnerving just like the blue of our blood in opposition to red. One of the SWAT team officers helps the little girl to her feet, pulling her gently away from the scene. Her cheeks are tracked with tears, and there's a smudge of blue on her face from the android's blood.

My mission had been to rescue the hostage and negotiate with the android threatening her. There had been three casualties. The little girl who had been taken hostage had lost her father, and two of the responding officers had been gunned down. This was my first mission, and I'm trying to understand the deviant's actions. Daniel's programming was to care for Emma, the young daughter of the Phillips family. As far as I had been able to tell, the two had been quite close. I might even go as far as to say they had been friends. But then Daniel had learned that the Phillips family planned to replace him in favor of a newer model, and he turned against them, shooting Emma's father and taking the young girl hostage.

I'd been created to hunt down deviants as they became more of a threat to Detroit. Crime rates were up, and the humans were trying to figure out why androids were turning. Androids weren't programmed to feel fear or pain, but I'd seen both on the deviant's face as I'd tried to talk it down. It hadn't wanted to die. _Feared_ dying, in fact. I hadn't even thought about the possibility of dying tonight because it didn't matter in the end—what mattered was that I accomplished my mission. I suppose to die might have meant failure, and I can imagine how disappointed Amanda would be if I had failed.

I hadn't failed though, but the confusion that clouds my mind unsettles me. I turn to leave the rooftop. There's no reason for me to linger. My mission is complete, and it's time to return to CyberLife to report the details.

Paramedics are loading a wounded cop onto a gurney. My tourniquet kept him from bleeding out. I shouldn't care whether or not he's still alive, but it seemed wrong to leave him to die. He's unconscious, but his vitals are strong and his probability of survival is high.

"Did _you_ put the tourniquet on him?" one of the paramedics asks, nodding to my tie which is knotted around the officer's wound.

"I did." I don't know why it matters and begin to move on, but the paramedic speaks again.

"Why'd you save him?" he asks.

Rescuing officers was not part of my mission, and I furrow my brow a little at his question. I don't know how to answer him. "His death wasn't necessary," I finally tell him. I had the means of saving him, and it seemed a waste not to.

The paramedic nods, taking this in. Then he laughs, which seems an odd response. "An android with a conscience?" he asks, but I don't think he means for me to answer. He gives me an odd look before he and his partner lift the gurney and leave the rooftop.

I decide to take the stairs as they angle the gurney into the elevator. It's a long walk down, but I need the time to clear my mind. I have nothing to compare this sensation to. I wasn't expecting the fear I saw on the deviant's face. I'd lied and told him he wouldn't be hurt, that they wouldn't kill him, because it was the right thing to say to keep him calm. When he'd realized I'd lied to him, his face had held a look of betrayal. He didn't understand why I'd been created. I wasn't on his side. My mission was to take down deviants, and I had succeeded in my mission tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **My first favorite and follow! Thank you! :) Here is another chapter! I might post one more tonight. I just started writing chapter 52, so I'm pretty far ahead.

* * *

**3 Detroit 8.16.2038**

**Clara**

I poise in front of the mirror with a pair of scissors but fear the end result too much to actually take the first snip. I'm supposed to look like that AP700 model android, and I don't think a home-cut hairdo is going to fool anyone. Last time I saw a professional hairdresser I was twelve and considered a perm a step in the right direction. I've never been all that concerned with my appearance. Makeup takes far too long and costs more than groceries. If I'm going to pull this off though, I need to look the part. I sigh, dumping the scissors back in the drawer and grabbing my car keys. I end up at a hairdresser south of downtown in a neighborhood that looks questionable but safe enough. I want to avoid paying more than twenty bucks, but I also don't want to get mugged. It's a delicate balance that I've learned as a journalist.

As I push through the doors, I find myself assaulted by the pungent odor of hairspray and dyes. I've got the picture of the android on my phone to show the hairdresser. I'm hoping she won't ask any questions.

"We get a lot of those requests," the stylist who greets me says when I show her the picture. "Mostly wives trying to look a little more perfect for their husbands." She gives me the side-eye. "You're not one of them, are you?"

Would it matter if I were, I wonder. "No," I tell her. She doesn't ask any more questions, and I settle into the chair, the torn vinyl creaking a little.

She chats while she snips though I'm not really paying attention. My mind is firmly set on my mission, and I'm scrolling through the details of the AP700 model I'm imitating. Her name is Anna pronounced _Ah-nah_. Easily mispronounced just like my own name which has a long _A_ at the beginning. Her functions are housekeeping, caretaking, cooking, gardening, and she can speak 700 languages. I really hope that last part doesn't come up because though I'm fluent in second year high school Spanish and a little rusty in conversational German, I doubt I could fake French or Swahili if asked. My own home looks like a tornado came through, and I'd be lying if I said I put my dishes away after running the dishwasher, but I can be neat for a few weeks. I'm actually a pretty good cook. My grandma was always giving me lessons as a teenager, and we spent hours making Linzer cookies and marzipan. If asked to take care of a child, I might quit on the spot. Children are sticky and messy and have this horrible smell that some people seem to like but I, frankly, don't get.

I'm eager to hear more about the assignment from Horowitz this morning as soon as I'm done getting my makeover. I don't know how he's pulled all this off, but he never half-asses anything, so I know he'll have it all planned out. All of his plans are brilliant. Not all of them succeed, but they're all fucking brilliant.

"There you go, doll. You look just like that android."

My gaze snags on my reflection in the mirror. Holy shit, I _do_ look like her. Without all the extra bulk to it, my hair hangs in straight strands that curve around my neck, a little uneven in the front like an A-line.

"That'll be twenty five dollars, hun. You can pay at the counter."

I consider not tipping her after she calls me both 'doll' and 'hun,' but she really has done a good job, so I give her a five dollar tip and leave with my Anna-styled hair. I stop by a convenience store to pick up some basic makeup, ripping into the packages in my car and applying it in the rearview mirror. When I'm done, I have to admit I look pretty good. A little bit of eyeliner and mascara makes the blue of my eyes really pop and the brush of blush makes my otherwise pale skin a little brighter. I have the smallest smattering of freckles across my nose, but I don't bother covering them up. Androids don't have acne, and fortunately I don't either. I paid the price for my youth in middle school and high school and am now reaping the benefits of my late twenties.

I drive to the office, my tiny Versa Note making good time despite the traffic. I'd spent a lot of time last night mulling over the assignment, nervous and unsure even by the bottom of my second glass of wine. Now I was excited, my earlier doubts at the back of my mind. This would be the story of a lifetime, and it could make or break my career as a journalist.

"Shut the door, shut the door," Horowitz says impatiently the second I set foot in his office. I do as requested and take a seat in front of his desk. He glances at me and nods in approval. "Good, you look like an AP700."

I don't know whether or not to take this as a compliment, but I say thank you anyway.

"The family you've been assigned to already has another android, so it's the perfect opportunity for you to study one in its household. No one knows you're actually a journalist. That would ruin the whole thing."

"Is anyone really going to believe I'm an android?" I ask. It seems like a huge risk. I'm so utterly human, and that glowing disk isn't anything more than ornamental for me.

"They just want someone to help keep up with housework. They've got money to waste, so it's more of a status thing. This LED will keep the other android from getting suspicious. If an android were to scan you—which they wouldn't even think to do—it would come up with the Anna model's information. No one's going to be looking too closely though. Just be careful about human things. You'll have to sneak food since androids don't eat, but Lazaro's going to be running interference and keeping you fed. Even androids need to rest to recharge, so it won't be suspicious if you sleep. You'll have your own quarters, so no one will bother you."

"Don't people usually buy androids from the stores? Won't it look suspicious if I just show up?"

"Rich folks don't go buy their own androids. You'll be arriving via delivery truck." That sounds degrading, but I nod. "I've got you a new outfit, and we'll have the LED attached to your head. I've got some of that glue that's safe to use on skin. My kids used it on their ears last year so they could look like elves. Boy does that stuff _stick_."

"When do I start?" I ask. I'm kind of having trouble getting past the idea of having an LED glued to my head.

"Eager. I like it. Tomorrow morning. Tonight you're going to study up on everything android. You've got to walk and talk like one."

"What about the family?" I feel like the more I know about them, the better off I'll be. Androids don't react to things like humans do so the less surprises, the better.

"I've sent you all the details on your tablet. Take the rest of the day off to study up. Lazaro will be picking you up 0800 hour tomorrow. Observe everything. How do the humans interact with the androids? How do the androids feel about their lot in life? Are they more robot or human? When you have enough to write your article, we'll come get you out."

"And if I get caught?" I ask because it seems like there's a high risk of this.

"Don't," is Horowitz's only advice.


	4. Chapter 4

**4 Detroit 8.16.2038 **

**7:30 am**

**Zen Garden**

**Connor**

I open my eyes and find myself in the Zen Garden. Amanda awaits my report from the night before, and I'm eager to please her with my successful mission. She's standing on the bridge at the center of the garden, and I follow the pathway that leads there. Amanda turns to face me.

"You've completed your first mission, Connor. Was it successful?" she asks me.

"It was," I reply. "The deviant let the human girl go and was taken down by the sniper rifles. It seems its motivations were fear of being replaced. It had very strong feelings about death as well."

Amanda takes in this information. "Interesting. That's proving to be a connection between deviants. They're imitating emotions they were not designed to feel."

"Is it an error in their system?" I ask.

"We're still not sure what's causing the androids to deviate, but I expect we'll have another chance to study one. I'm pleased with your success, Connor. I wonder though…" She pauses, and I wait for her next words, something like trepidation making me nervous. "Why did you save that officer? That wasn't part of your mission. You were sent in to negotiate with the deviant." She cocks her head to the side, studying me. "That could have compromised the entire mission."

"I thought his death unnecessary," I say, giving her the same answer as I'd given the paramedic.

She studies me a long moment. "Very well. You're dismissed. When another deviant case comes up, you'll be dispatched."

I nod and take my leave. When. It's not a matter of _if_ it happens again because it will. I feel confident I'll handle it well. Until then, I wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**5 Detroit 8.17.2038**

**Clara**

I arrive at my family's house in a delivery truck as promised. Fortunately, I get to sit in the front seat with Tony who drives. He keeps glancing at me like I'm a novelty, and I'm very close to tipping his coffee into his lap.

"You look just like her. It is so freaky," he says, lifting a thick dark brow to survey me.

"Yeah, you've mentioned that a few times," I say in my rubber-band-about-to-snap voice.

"It's freaky." Tony is handsome with his olive skin, thick black hair, and dark brown eyes. All the women at work want to date him, but he has a no dating coworkers policy, which is actually pretty cool. He's at least ten years older than me, so I've never had to worry about that anyway. He's like a big brother to me in the way my real brother never has been. Tony's looked out for me at _Detroit Today_ from day one and, though I'd never admit it to him, I really do appreciate it.

"So there's the house," Tony says, pulling up to the curb across the street from an urban monstrosity that's apparently counting as a house these days. It reeks of money but doesn't go down the opulent route. The house stands three stories with dorms jutting out of the fourth floor—probably an attic space. It's thick and square cut with a deep porch and way too many windows. It screams industrial with a lackluster color scheme (greys, mostly) and concrete for siding (really?). It looks like they were trying to go for artistic but missed basically everything about it that would have made it bohemian.

"Cool. Looks welcoming." I make to get out of the truck, but Tony stops me with a hand on my arm.

"This is an intense assignment. I'm not sure you're fully appreciating that," he tells me, and I can see that he really means that because that little wrinkle between his eyebrows has appeared.

"I get it. I'm pretending to be something I'm not, and this could go downhill really fast. It won't come to that. I was up all last night studying everything about androids. I can walk and talk like one. They're not going to figure it out. I'll get my story, and I'll get out."

"I like the confidence."

I straighten my android outfit. The loose pants and tunic-style shirt are a shade somewhere between white and grey. There's a little collar at the neck that makes me want to scratch and the front of the shirt is decorated with a blue triangle and the name 'Anna.' I have to wear a blue armband too as if nothing else denotes me as an android. The back of my shirt has 'android' written across the top with my model number AP700 below that. The LED has been glued to my head, and I'm a little fearful of it coming off—whether it will actually come off when I'm done with all this.

"Well, I'm feeling really good about this," I say. So, okay, I'm a little nervous because who wouldn't be, but I'm also determined to kill this assignment.

"Check in with me at the end of every day," Tony tells me. "Chief wants updates regularly. He pulled a lot to get this to happen, so try to give him something."

"Will do." I still don't know how he pulled this off but somehow in Detroit, things don't quite work the same as other places, and these days everything seems upside-down.

"Then good luck. If you need anything, you let me know. Don't pull that 'I can do everything on my own' attitude if things go south."

I roll my eyes, but really it's good to know he's got my back. I give him a thumbs up before hopping out of the truck and straightening my posture. I smooth out my suit. My hair still feels feather light around my shoulders, and the back of my neck is cold without the extra length. I walk toward the house with mechanical steps, grateful I've always been pretty graceful. I studied the way they moved on the way to work the last few days, the way they keep their shoulders back in perfect posture and stare straight ahead. I doubt the family will be watching too closely, but it's not just them I have to fool.

Bryony and David Downs had lived in Detroit for fifteen years when David founded a company that specialized in android apps that would allow you to control your android remotely. The company had made them billionaires though recently their stocks were down with customers questioning whether or not the app was causing deviancy. David was often away on business trips, but Bryony was unemployed (although she would use the word 'house-wife') and rarely left their home. She'd been a model in a previous life and still hung on to the vestiges of youth. They had a pre-teen daughter who often threw fits in public places, and I would be looking to avoid her at all costs.

Laura would be the person—or android rather—I'd need to watch out for though. Laura was the Downs family's android, and she would be the real test. I didn't know what she would do if she suspected I wasn't an android, but I was relying on her not looking closely enough to notice anything was different. Horowitz had assured me that Laura would be too focused on her own job to pay much attention to me, and I hope he's right.

I find myself confronted by rod-iron gates with a call box. I press the button and hear an answering voice on the other end. "_Hello?_"

I summon my calmest voice. "I'm Anna," I say. "The Downs family's new android."

"Come in." There's a buzz, and the gates open up enough for me to squeeze through. I walk up the long drive that's sheltered by weeping willows. The whole yard is a scrambled mess of trees and landscaped rocks and, despite the monstrosity of a house set at the very center, I like it. I walk up the steps to the porch, and the door opens revealing an android. It must be Laura because she has a blue glowing LED on her right temple just like me. She moves aside to let me in, and I enter the house. I try to keep my eyes forward, but I can't help looking around me. The entrance hall is stark and open with a glass staircase leading up in an L-shape and a chandelier that hangs nearly to the floor. Everything is in tones of white and grey with the exception of some colorful vases that sit atop a white table.

"Welcome," Laura tells me politely.

"Thank you. Where should I start?" I ask, hoping to sound eager to serve but not _too _eager.

"I will show you around the house first, and then Madam Downs would like you to do some dusting. They're holding a party tomorrow night and want the home pristine."

"Of course."

Laura shows me around. The home has two formal sitting rooms, a TV room for the daughter and a study and connected billiards room for Mr. Downs. There's a formal dining room as well as a breakfast nook attached to the kitchen. At the very back of the house, framed in glass, is a conservatory and indoor pool. Upstairs are the master bedroom and guest rooms, and on the third floor there's the daughter's room as well as a music room and a dance room.

"Lucy has dance lessons and music lessons three times a week," Laura tells me. "She's very precocious."

I think I see a strain in her smile as she speaks, and it warms me a little to know she isn't totally robotic.

"I stay up in the attic," Laura goes on, indicating a door at the very end of the hall. I assume there's a set of stairs behind. "There are two rooms up there to recharge at the end of the day." That's a relief to hear, and I assume there might also be a bathroom though I'll have to be stealthy about that.

"Let's go back downstairs, and I'll show you where the cleaning supplies are." I follow Laura back downstairs to the kitchen pantry where she shows me all the cleaning supplies. I'm not psyched to start out my assignment dusting furniture, but grab a can of furniture polish and a dusting cloth.

"Is anyone home today?" I ask innocently. I'm eager to meet the family and see how they react to me.

"Madam Downs will be home this evening after her charity meeting, and Mr. Downs is at a business meeting until tomorrow morning. Lucy is upstairs, but she doesn't like to be disturbed."

"Understood." It wasn't like I was eager to meet up with the cranky pre-teen, so it was probably better that she stayed in her room. "I'll get cleaning, and please let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"Thank you." Laura gives me a genuine smile. "It will be nice to have a little extra help. It's a big house, and Madam Downs's charity balls keep me busy."

"Is that what the party is tomorrow?" I ask.

"Yes. She's helping raise money for the homeless who recently lost their jobs. The shelters are overflowing."

Ironic, I think, considering a human could easily do the job Laura and I were bought to do. I wondered if _Madam_ Downs wasn't aware of the irony or if she was just holding the charity ball for status.


	6. Chapter 6

**6 Detroit 8.18.2038 **

**4:45 pm**

**Downs Mansion, 2100 Front Street**

**Connor**

I have a new mission, but it's not what I was expecting. I was created to hunt down deviants, but now I find myself at the front doors to a mansion as guests begin to arrive. With deviants on the rise, some families are getting worried their androids will be next. I've been asked to analyze the androids present tonight to ensure the safety of the guests.

The door is answered by an AP700 model. It has dark hair and eyes and its LED flickers blue as it welcomes me in. I take in my surroundings. The painting on the wall is an original Pollock, and it doesn't make sense to me with the random spatters of color. There's nothing linear about it. Its prominent place in the entrance hall speaks of status and wealth.

Laura leads me into the formal living room where Bryony Downs is putting the final touches on the decorations. She turns when I enter, dismissing the android with a nod.

"Thank you for coming," she says, her voice holding no hint of warmth. She doesn't reach out to shake my hand like she would a human. "The caterers are all androids, hired for the party, and I'd like full analysis of them before the party starts. Some guests always insist on bringing their personal androids, and I want them scanned too but discretely."

I nod. "Do you have any other staff here?" I ask. It's a big house, and I can't imagine the one managing it all on her own.

"We just bought another android. It's an Anna model. It'll be taking guest's coats. I would hope as a brand new model, it wouldn't be at risk of deviating, but we can never be too safe. I take it you're not at risk of deviation?" She gives me an accusatory look.

"I was created to hunt deviants," I tell her, keeping my voice at the calm, level tone humans trust. "And I self-test regularly. You don't have to worry about me."

This seems to satisfy her. "Good. Well, why don't you go check out the caterers and get back to me. Guests will be arriving at five. Take the door second to the right in the hall."

I nod and walk toward the kitchen. Inside there are five androids preparing food. They come from _Bella__'__s Catering_, an eight point three star catering company that recently fired all its human employees for androids. There was a lot of negative attention from the public after this, but the business is booming now that its employees did not need to be paid. I don't know why, but this bothers me. It doesn't seem fair to either the humans or the androids.

The androids are too busy to take notice of me, so I scan them for deviant behavior while they work. They have nothing in their history to indicate deviant behavior, and each of their LEDs is blue, their stress levels very low. I watch their behavior a moment longer, but nothing stands out to me as unusual.

The guests are arriving as I find my way back to Mrs. Downs. I see another AP700 model accepting coats. This must be the other android, but I see Mrs. Downs waving me over before I get the chance to analyze it.

"Everything seems in order," I tell her. "There was nothing to indicate any deviant tendencies."

"Thank god. That's the food down at least. I see at least three androids that guests have brought." She frowns, and I can tell she doesn't approve. "Please stay in the room and make sure they're all obedient."

That's not really my job, but I don't argue. I stand near the edge of the room, blending in with the grey wallpaper, scanning every android that enters the room. They all stand at attention, none of them joining in with the humans. Their eyes stare straight ahead, and I see nothing that indicates they'd rather do otherwise. I realize I never scanned the other household android, and glance around for it. It isn't in the room, and I wonder if it was assigned another task. Mrs. Downs asked me to stay in the room but after all the guests and their androids have arrived, I slip out to find the other android.

It's not in the front hall taking coats anymore, and so I slip into the kitchen again. The caterers are at the party, serving the guests, and the room is empty. I search the other rooms on the first floor and am about to give up when I hear something like a sneeze. There are glass doors that lead out into a conservatory and indoor pool, and something shifts inside. It could just be a guest, but I enter the room to check.

The air is warm and muggy inside though I don't feel any discomfort from it. The android is standing by the glass, looking out at the backyard. It doesn't hear me as I approach until my shoe scuffs against a bit of garden gravel on the floor.

It jumps, whirling around with startled eyes. Its LED glows blue, but not quite as blue as its eyes.

"You scared me," it says. Then its eyes widen more, and it visibly takes a deep breath. "Can I help you?" Its tone is more moderate now, controlled. I scan it, pulling up its information.

_Android: Anna. Model: AP700. Serial Number: 615 208 190._

After that, it was blank. I try to get a reading on its stress level, but nothing happens. I frown. Am I malfunctioning? I try again, but I can get no reading on it further than its basic information.

"Are you…okay?" it asks me, biting its lip.

"I…I'm fine," I tell it. No one has ever asked me that before, and I'm not sure it's the correct answer.

"How long have you worked for the Downses?" I ask, trying to get myself back on track.

It's the android's turn to frown now. "Just two days." It seems to want to say more but stops itself.

"How do you like working for them?" Deviants show emotions where androids shouldn't, and I watch for its reaction.

Its face stays calm. "It is a very nice place to work," it says. "The Downses have been pleased with my work so far."

I see its eyes taking in the detailing of my suit, frowning a little at my RK800 model number written across the front of my jacket. I straighten my tie, feeling suddenly self-conscious under its scrutiny though there's no reason for it.

"Why are you in here?" I ask.

"My job was to take coats and then to stay out of the way," it tells me. "Madam Downs wants to wait before letting me serve during her parties."

Besides it startling when I entered the room, there's nothing odd about its behavior.

"Who are you?" it asks suddenly, and I see curiosity shining in its eyes.

"My name is Connor. I'm here at Mrs. Downs's request." I don't tell it I'm looking for deviants, and it seems to accept my answer with no further curiosity.

"Enjoy the party," it says and turns its back to me.


	7. Chapter 7

**7 Detroit 8.18.2038 **

**Clara**

My heart is still beating hard after encountering the android. Connor he said his name was. There was something completely intimidating about him, and he hardly spoke to me. I wonder why he's here tonight. I didn't get the impression Madam Downs was an avid android supporter, so why would she invite one here? It seemed as if he was looking for something or someone. I don't think my cover was blown, but that was too close of a call. I can't mess this up on day two.

I came to the conservatory to stay out of the way since I don't have any other immediate jobs. The party is over at 8pm, so I won't be missed. I have to admit I'm curious now. I'm a journalist, so of course I can't keep my nose out of it. I straighten my outfit and head toward the party. I don't plan on going into the room. Much as I'd like to listen in on conversations, I don't want to put my position in jeopardy. I peer into the formal living room to see the party in full swing. People are laughing and drinking, and the caterers are circulating around the room. I see a few androids standing along the wall, just staring off into space. I don't understand the point of bringing them in the first place. I see Laura hovering near Mrs. Downs. The android who interrogated me in the conservatory is standing at the edge of the room, too, but I get the feeling he's doing anything but staring into space. I see his brown eyes scanning the room, searching for something. He's different from the others, different from any other android I've seen. He seems almost predatory the way he watches the room, and I find myself intimidated by that. I don't understand his purpose, but it's something more than simply serving humans.

"What are you doing?"

I nearly jump out of my skin for the second time, spinning around to find myself faced with a young girl. She has auburn hair that halos her face as if she just woke up from a nap. Dark green eyes narrow in suspicion.

"I was just…just making sure everything was running smoothly," I tell her.

She watches me a moment, and I feel my heartbeat increase. If I'm found out by a twelve year old, then I really don't deserve this assignment.

"I'm not allowed in there either," she finally says, a note of disdain in her voice. I think I also recognize loneliness. "Who are you?"

"I'm Anna. I just started here yesterday," I say. "You must be Lucy."

"That's me. You're not replacing Laura, are you?" I think I detect a hint of fear in her voice though she tries to hide it.

"No, Laura's staying. I'm just here to help her out," I say. I hope I'm not being too chatty for an android, but Lucy doesn't seem to think anything of it. Maybe she and Laura are friends.

"Good. I like Laura," she says, confirming my suspicions. "Do you want to see my room?"

It's not even six yet, so I nod. She leads me up to the third floor, opening the middle door. I follow her into a huge room. Suite might be a better word. She's decorated it in lots of purple, and the room is a complete mess. I feel instantly at home because my house looks just the same only less pop singer posters and more dirty dishes.

"Laura is always trying to clean in here, but I don't let her," Lucy says. "My mom hates it, but she's too clean. I don't like going downstairs because she yells at me if I don't use a coaster or if I wear shoes on the carpeting."

I realize I'd misjudged Lucy as the bratty daughter of a rich family. She feels stifled. Befriending her might be beneficial in more ways than one.

"I'm sorry that happens," I say. "I don't think your room looks messy. It just looks well-loved and lived in."

Lucy smiles. "I think I'm going to like you, Anna. I hope we can be friends."

"I hope so, too."

Lucy's smile fades. "Mom doesn't like it when I hang out with Laura, but she's gone a lot of the time for her meetings or whatever. Dad's never here, so it can be a little lonely."

"I can understand that. Maybe we can spend some time together when they're both out so you don't get into trouble," I say. If I can get her to open up a little about her friendship with Laura, perhaps I can get an interesting perspective on the relationship between androids and humans. The idea of them becoming friends is something I'd never considered before but, I have to admit, I like that angle. It's touching somehow. Even if I'm not an android, I like that Lucy has reached out to me.

She shows me her dance studio and art studio, and we talk about her school and friends and the boy she has a crush on in her grade. Finally, it's time for me to hand coats back to partygoers, and I thank Lucy for her company and promise we'll hang out again soon.

As I stand at the door handing coats back to the guests, I look around for Connor, but he's already gone. I feel a sense of relief because I'm not sure I can undergo his scrutiny again without giving myself away.

Finally, all the guests and caterers have gone, and Madam Downs shuts the door.

"Good job tonight, Anna," she says, all business, but I feel a sense of pride at the compliment. "You and Laura can clean up the room now."

I nod. "Of course, Madam Downs."

Laura and I move to clean up the mess, and I inwardly groan at how long it's going to take. "It seems like everyone enjoyed themselves," I say when Laura and I are alone. Lucy was so chatty, but I wonder how Laura will respond.

"Madam Downs throws many successful parties," Laura agrees.

"I didn't expect to see so many androids," I try. I keep my tone neutral, uninterested.

"Madam Downs's friends often bring their personal androids," Laura says. "They all use the app Mr. Downs invented."

Ah, that makes sense, but it's still a silly reason. It's like showing off a dog who can do tricks, and I don't like the feeling it leaves in my mouth. Androids aren't exactly human, but they're alive in all the ways that count.

"Who was that male android?" I push my luck a little further. "The RK800."

"Oh, him." This gets a reaction from Laura who stops cleaning a moment. I think I see a flicker of fear in her eyes before it fades. I didn't know androids could feel fear. She lowers her voice though Madam Downs went to bed. "He's from CyberLife. I overheard Madam Downs saying he's in charge of hunting down deviants."

"Oh?" Now _this_ is interesting. If CyberLife is sending out androids to hunt down the deviants, then that means they think it's a problem. But is sending one android to hunt down deviants really going to solve the problem? Who's to say this android can't go deviant too?

"Madam Downs requested he be here tonight to make sure none of the androids were deviants," Laura continues.

"But he didn't find anything suspicious?" Oh god, he was _scanning _me, trying to analyze whether I was stable or not. What did he see? I think he would have said something if he had realized I wasn't an android, but what rational human would pose as one? I start to panic just a little as I wait for Laura to answer. Surely he would have said something to Mrs. Downs, and she would have said something to me.

"No," Laura says, continuing to clean up the dirty dishes. "Nothing suspicious at all."

I slowly exhale, my heartbeat evening out until I can breathe properly again. My cover isn't blown and, with luck, I'll never see that Connor android again.


	8. Chapter 8

**8 Detroit 8.22.2038 **

**Clara**

I fall into a routine. During the day, I'm busy cleaning rooms or watering plants and flowers in the conservatory. Every night, I check in with Tony to report and discuss what happened. I asked him to look into Connor, but he hasn't found anything. CyberLife keeps a tight lid on their secrets, but I can't quite shake the curiosity the RK800 model roused in me.

I don't meet Mr. Downs until my fourth day with the family. He's home from his latest business trip, and I can hear Laura greeting him politely downstairs. I'm dusting Lucy's room while Lucy lays on her bed drawing. We've hung out a few times since the night of the party, and I'm surprised by how friendly and open she is to me. She talks nonstop, mostly about herself and school but occasionally about her parents. I get the feeling she's not close to either of them though she remembers a time when she was. Despite this, she leaps up from her bed as soon as her dad enters the house, running downstairs. I follow but hesitate at the edge of the staircase. I can see down to the front hall from here. Lucy's father is a tall man with broad shoulders, dark hair, and thick eyebrows that give him a surly look. His face doesn't light up the way I expect it to when Lucy comes barreling down the stairs. I think she'll throw herself in his arms like I did when I was a kid and my dad came home from a long day at the office, but she skids to a halt at the base of the stairs.

Laura has taken Mr. Downs's coat and leaves the room, efficient and nearly invisible. Lucy hovers, but Mr. Downs barely glances at her.

"Hello, Daddy." The timid voice that comes out is nothing like the loud, chattering one I've grown used to. She always sounds a little breathless because she can't quite get her words out of her mouth fast enough. Now she sounds shy, subdued.

"Where's your mother?" Mr. Downs sets down his briefcase, turning his back to Lucy.

"She's outside working on her tan," Lucy says, her tone disheartened.

"I'll catch up with you later," Mr. Downs says, ruffling Lucy's hair before heading toward the back of the house. Lucy scowls, flattening her hair again. I recede into the room as she stalks back upstairs.

"Do you want to play a board game?" I ask, trying to cheer her up.

"I'd like to be left alone," she says sulkily.

"Of course." I take my cleaning supplies and leave her, gently closing the door behind me. I don't want to push her because I think I understand why she's known for her outbursts in public. She's trying to get attention from the two people in her life who she shouldn't have to ask for it from.

I was always close to my family. We were just like that. My mother was a stay-at-home mom when I was born. She'd worked through a lot of my older brother's childhood because they couldn't afford for her to stay at home but after my dad got promoted, he brought home enough for her to quit her part-time job. My brother was always a little resentful of that, and he's still a little distant with me though his wife and I call each other weekly. Things got a little tense after my dad's accident, but I like to think it brought us closer together—some of us, at least. I see none of that closeness in this family, and I think you would have to build a bridge to connect them. It makes me sad even though they're practically strangers to me.

I make my way downstairs intending to check in with Laura to see what else needs to be done. Mr. Downs hasn't properly shut the glass doors leading out to the conservatory and pool, and I hear raised voices leaking out into the front hall. I know I shouldn't listen in—I'm not here to interfere with the Downs's personal business. But who am I kidding? I've got my reputation of being nosy to preserve, so I stand at the edge of the glass so I'm hidden from sight but can still listen in on the conversation.

I peek around the corner to get a visual on where Mr. and Mrs. Downs are standing. Mr. Downs stands over his wife who's sunning herself in a patch of light on the other side of the pool. He's poured himself a drink, the crystal glass refracting light as it bounces off the pool water. I can hear the ice cubes clattering around the bottom.

"How was the meeting?" Mrs. Downs asks. There's nothing friendly in her tone, and I wonder why she bothers to ask. Mr. Downs takes a long swig of his drink before walking over to a silver cart to refill the glass.

"They didn't accept the deal," Mr. Downs says, a scowl making his face ugly and mean.

"Well, that is a shame." She doesn't sound sorry at all, which only makes Mr. Downs frown all the more.

"You should care a little more, Bryony. If this family falls, so do you." His voice is pure snarl, but Mrs. Downs doesn't react from what I can see.

"Will I?" she asks, voice languid and composed compared to her husband's.

"I will perfect the software." Mr. Downs starts pacing, and I back away from the glass to avoid detection.

"Do you really think your investors will trust you after this…oversight?" Mrs. Downs asks.

"They'll have to. If CyberLife's technology is at fault for the deviants then they're just as fucked as I am."

"Whatever you say, dear."

I decide to move on when a silence stretches on. I don't know if an android would know what to do with this information, but I'd rather not be caught. Clearly this was the right family to pair me with. Knowing Horowitz, he probably knew this. Suddenly my palms are sweating, and I feel a little short of breath. What have I gotten myself into?

…

I have a lot to report, but I wait until the end of the day to talk to Tony. I hesitate to bring this to the table. Is this what the assignment is really about or is it really just a coincidence? I knew of the Downs family's reputation before but, to my knowledge, the public isn't aware of their financial troubles. If Horowitz sent me in blind to investigate the family, I am not going to be happy. I'm not an investigative journalist, and nosing too far into the family's business is going to blow my cover. If that happens, I'm out of a job, no question about it.

I shut myself into the tiny attic room, nerves twisting my stomach. Calling this space a room is generous. There's a bed but it's only got a mattress, no pillows or blankets. There's a desk and a chair crammed in like an afterthought. I don't feel safe here, but it's better than the broom closet or standing still all night in the corner of a room. Sometimes my heart begins to race when I realize how easily this could all fall apart.

"Did you know the Downs's were having financial difficulties?" I ask Tony when I call in. I've still got my phone, which I keep hidden away in an inner pocket of my uniform. It helps me feel a little more connected to the outside world.

"_There were rumors_,_" _Tony replies._ "Since the deviations have started, people are questioning his company. They wonder if the app somehow causes the deviation_."

I know the app allows people to control their androids without giving them verbal commands or even being in the same room as them. There's something uncomfortable about the thought—it dehumanizes the androids, makes them more robot despite the fact that they're the most advanced technology today.

"Is this really why Horowitz sent me in?" I ask. "I mean, he had to know how big this was. It goes way beyond a simple 'how do people treat androids' article."

Tony's silent for a long moment, but then he sighs softly. "No, that's not why he sent you in," he says finally. "But it's why he has me on surveillance. This is my article, but you're my source. I'm sorry, Clara. You've still got the chance for your article. That wasn't just a cover."

I process what he's telling me. It shouldn't surprise me. Tony is the senior journalist, and there's obviously more going on here than first met the eye. "Why couldn't he have just told me that?"

"He thought you might not agree to the assignment if you knew," Tony tells me. "I didn't agree for the record. I didn't like the idea of using you as a cover. I was going to tell you, but it was both our jobs on the line. I still should have told you."

I take a deep breath, taking a moment to figure out how I feel about this. "I can still write my article. I can still get out of that shit-hole of a column I'm buried in."

"Yes. This article is your doorway. Take it, Clara. I know you've got what it takes."

"I want credit for your article," I say. Tony is quiet on the other end. "If I'm doing all the leg-work, then I want credit."

"That's fair," he finally says. "Horowitz won't be happy you know, but it's credit where credit's due."

"Then I'll keep going. But I'm not jeopardizing my article for yours. If you want to really get into the thick of the Downs's financial problems, you're going to have to get in here yourself."

"Understood. It was never about you sticking your nose into their business. We were hoping you'd overhear something, find some paperwork while you were dusting. We needed to know there was a story first."

"Well, there might not be. Financial troubles aren't exactly front page news."

"No, but if the company is somehow responsible for the deviations, if there is a bug…" Tony presses.

"Then we have our story," I finish.


	9. Chapter 9

**9 Detroit 8.30.2038 **

**11:21am**

**City Center**

**Connor**

All my missions so far have centered around deviants, so I'm not sure why I'm investigating human protestors. Usually it's humans protesting against androids from what I've seen and read in reports. Today there are two groups, and one of them is protesting android enslavement. Police cars line the streets, blue and red lights flashing, reflecting off the glass of the CyberLife store where the protestors have set up camp.

So far no fights have broken out. The humans carry conflicting signs, the ones protesting androids read "BAN ANDROIDS" and "GIVE US BACK OUR JOBS!" while the opposing signs read "EQUAL RIGHTS FOR ANDROIDS" and "BAN SLAVERY!"

"We need to get a feel for how the public is responding," Amanda had told me earlier in the Zen Garden. "How humans respond to the deviant situation will help us determine the best way to handle it. We can't let the deviants sow chaos which is exactly what they'll do if the public learns too much about them—if we can't stop them. No one will want an android in their home if they fear them."

I feel a little directionless without more specific orders, but I skirt around the City Center, observing without getting too close. I can only imagine how the protestors against androids might react to an android getting in the way of their protest. I'm not here to get in the way, so I take a position across from the two groups, close enough to listen in, but far enough away that I won't draw attention. The pro-android group is significantly smaller, and I'm surprised to find that disheartening. The thought unsettles me because I'm supposed to be impassive. An observer and nothing more. I'm not pro-android or against because it's not in my programming to form my own opinions. I look at the facts objectively. I was not built to feel, but I can't shake the stab of injustice I feel at the protestors declaring that androids stole their jobs. Humans built androids to do work for them, and I didn't see how that was the androids' fault. Human history showed a pattern of people blaming another group of people for all their problems because they were different or because they didn't align with the ideal image of human perfection. There was always someone putting someone else down whether they were at fault or not. Now the androids were taking the blame for lost jobs when they weren't even free to make their own choices.

I blink, surprised at my train of thoughts. This isn't why I'm here, and I've become distracted. If this is some kind of test, I'm failing.

"Leave her alone!" I snap to attention at the sound of a girl's voice. It registers as upset, frightened even, and I focus on the anti-android protestors. An android has strayed too close, its human girl standing in front of it as if to protect it.

"You act like that thing's your friend," one of the men spits. If I had to make an assumption from the sign he holds, I'd say that he's one of the humans who lost his job to androids. I run a quick facial scan and confirm that he is unemployed. He also has a criminal record for battery and assault. "It's just a fuckin' piece of plastic though!" the man continues, taking a step closer. The girl steps back, her face fearful. The android has its back to me, but it holds itself as if it wants to run. I realize I've taken a step forward as if to intervene, but I have direct orders not to get involved. Despite that, I'm relieved when one of the police officers steps forward and places himself between the man and the android and girl.

"This protest's only legal if it doesn't get violent," the police officer says. "I don't want to have to tell you to disperse, so leave this girl and her machine alone."

"All right, all right," the man says, holding his hands up and taking a step back. "Don't want to cause trouble. I just don't like seeing little girls with robots as role-models." He sneers at them, and the android takes the girls hand, hurrying them away from the scene. They cross the street, and I lose sight of them. Job finished, the officer moves back to his patrol car. The man who was threatening the girl and android doesn't start up his protests again. Instead, he moves to the back of the group before slipping away—after the girl and the android.

I'm already following him before I realize what I'm doing, but this time I don't stop. Nothing good can come from him catching up with the girl and android, and something in me refuses to stand by and do nothing. I am making a choice that does not come from any orders, and it both terrifies me and excites me—two emotions I'm not programmed to feel. I'm not programmed to feel anything, and yet I feel fear for the girl and the android. I don't want them to get hurt. Is there a bug in my system? That thought nearly stops me, but I keep going, trailing after the man. I can see the android and girl ahead now. The android seems to sense something because it glances back before taking the girl's hand and hurrying its pace. It turns the corner into an alley, and the man jogs to catch up. I do the same, stopping at the mouth of the dank passage. It's a dead end. I watch the girl and android turn to face the man, their backs to the chain-link fence that stretches high above their heads. The android pushes the girl behind its back, and I can see fear clearly written on its face. The man has them cornered, and he's stalking up to them like they're prey and he's the predator.

The alley reeks of garbage, and it's as if the city is sweating filth as a light rain begins to fall. I feel neither cold nor warm as the drops run down my face.

"Nowhere to run now," the man says. His name is Alan Rink, and I feel a strong dislike for him. I see now that he's holding what looks to be a piece of wood—perhaps once the base of a protestor's sign. He holds it in one fist while hitting it lightly on his opposing palm—a clear threat.

"Leave us alone!" the human girl cries out. I try to scan her, but the android is obscuring her face.

"I've got no interest in you, little girl. I just want to spend some quality time with this robot of yours. Only one thing the bitches are good for."

The female android's face goes blank, but I realize a moment later that it's with fury not lack of feeling. "I really wouldn't," it says, voice low. It looks familiar, and I realize why a moment later. This android works for the Downs family—it's the same android I spoke to in the conservatory, the one I couldn't get a clear reading on. The teenage girl must be the daughter.

"What did you just say to me?" Rink asks, taking a step forward and striking the wood against his palm. Chain-link rattles as the girl and the android back into it. He raises his hand to strike, and I bolt, feet light on the damp pavement. The android's eyes widen, but it flicks its eyes back to the man as if to keep from giving me away. He doesn't hear me, so I take him by surprise when I grab his wrist before he can bring the wooden stake down on the android's head. It's got its arms splayed out to protect the girl, ready to take the beating. Androids aren't allowed to harm humans, and it could be deactivated for it.

"Drop it," I request. "You've frightened the girl enough. I don't think her parents would be too happy if they found out you'd threatened their android and their daughter."

"Who the hell are you?" Rink asks, tearing his arm away from my grasp. He trips back before narrowing his eyes, taking in the blue LED at my temple and my RK800 suit. "Wait a minute, you're one of em'! I knew you fucking androids would be rising up against us! It was only a matter of time."

I hold my hands up, palms outward to show him I'm unarmed. That I mean him no harm. "I don't want any trouble," I say. I've negotiated before; I can do it again. "Just leave them alone."

"Someone needs to teach you to mind your own business." He swings at me then, anger redirected at me. I won't fight him, but I will defend myself. I catch his wrist again, stopping the blow from hitting me. He struggles, and I twist the wood from his grip, tossing it down the alley. His fist comes up so quickly I don't have time to duck the blow. It knocks me backwards, and I hit two tin garbage cans. They clatter to the ground as I strike them. I don't feel pain nor do I bruise, but the blow has me dazed. Rink grabs me by the collar of my jacket and heaves me to my feet before tossing me into the chain-link fence. It bows backwards under my weight, and I try to regain my balance. Before I can, something blurs in front of me, and the man goes down. I blink, focusing. The android is on the ground with the man, clawing at him. She rolls off of him and snatches something—the lid to one of the garbage cans I'd knocked over. Before the man can regain himself, she smashes the lid into his head. I wince at the sound.

The android is heaving breaths, lid poised above the man's head as if expecting him to attack her again. He's out cold, and I scan him to make sure he's still alive. His heart is beating strongly, but he's going to wake up with a terrible headache. The android drops the lid and looks straight at me.

"Are you going to report me?" she asks.

It's a valid question but before I can answer, someone grabs my arm from behind. "You can't!" It's the teenage girl, and now I scan her to confirm her identity. Lucy Downs. She seems to have formed a bond with the android. "Please don't. She was defending me."

I gently pry her fingers from my arm and walk over to the android. She gazes up at me, vivid blue eyes expectant. "I'm not here to report you," I say though that isn't entirely true. I was created to hunt deviants, and her behavior deviates from normal. She wasn't protecting herself though; she was protecting the girl. Deviants tended to turn on humans, not protect them.

I hold out my hand for her to take and, after a long pause and a scrutinizing stare, she accepts it. Her palm is hot, sweaty, and I tense as I pull her to her feet. She pulls her hand from my grip at once as if I've stung her, and I can see the distrust in her eyes.

"Thank you," she says brusquely. "Come on, Lucy." She holds out a hand to the girl, and Lucy takes it, glancing back at me as the android pulls her from the alley.

I stand and watch them go, my mind whirling. I still get an error message when I try to read her any further than her basic model details. Androids don't sweat. And, most prominent of all, androids don't bleed red but rather blue. The android's elbow was bleeding from a scrape on the pavement, and I bend down to touch a tiny spot of blood. Red blood. I bring it to my lips and press my finger to my tongue to analyze the blood sample. The results come to mind immediately, and a question pushes past Amanda's orders to the forefront of my mind: why is a human impersonating an android?


	10. Chapter 10

**10 Detroit 8.30.2038 **

**12:10 pm**

**Downs'****s Mansion**

**Clara**

My cover is blown. It has to be. Damn that RK800 and his completely ill-timed appearance. I had the situation under control. Sort of. Honestly, I hadn't known how to react. The human in me (what am I saying?). _I_ had the instinct to fight back but as an android, I couldn't attack a human. I couldn't react. I couldn't feel. It was impossible. Worst of all, I realized I was bleeding when we got back to the mansion. Lucy hadn't noticed, but I had to get away from her as quickly as possible to clean the blood off before someone asked why I was bleeding red instead of blue. Had the android noticed? He was clearly observant and intelligent. I hadn't missed that in his brown eyes or the way he quietly observed everything. But he had stepped in when he didn't have to. Maybe he was special, unique. Maybe he could intercede where other androids couldn't. I guess it doesn't matter as long as I never see him again. His job at the mansion had probably been a one-off, and our meeting downtown had been purely coincidental. Right?

I groan, gripping the edge of the bathroom counter. There were so many things that could go wrong. Fooling humans had been surprisingly easy, but fooling other androids was like parading around in black wool in a herd of white sheep and expecting that no one would notice a thing. Laura has been neutral toward me, and I don't think she suspects anything, but she's an obedient android. The RK800 is something else, and that frightens me. Usually I know what to expect from an android, but he has taken me by surprise several times with his inquisitiveness. I should have just let him finish the fight today, but I also couldn't stand by and do nothing while he was beat up.

I take a deep breath, double-checking that the scrape has stopped bleeding before pulling my sleeve down to cover it. Fortunately, the blood washed out of the material with some soap and cold water. I suppose I could always claim it wasn't mine, but that would lead to a lot of questions. The Downses didn't seem to suspect anything so far, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Bryony Downs ignores me for the most part, and I haven't been able to get much of anything out of her, just snippets of conversation overheard here and there. She spends a lot of time in solitude and doesn't tend to acknowledge Laura and my presence. Mr. Downs is rarely home though I watch him with eagle eyes when he is. And Lucy—Lucy has nothing to do with her family's problems. She's a sweet girl with a need for attention that isn't satisfied by either her mom or her dad. She and I have become fast friends though, and I hope she will confess something about her parents to me that might help with the article. I feel somewhat guilty for using her, but I have a deadline coming up, and I have next to nothing to write about. My interactions with the family outside of Lucy have been so minimal that I don't really have a clear idea of how they treat androids.

I flatten my hair where the strands had been disturbed by my fight with the asshole in the alley. Tackling him? Really? I wasn't entirely sure what I'd been thinking, but where androids had the instinct to obey orders, my instincts had been purely human. I could only take so much and if my cover was blown, oh well, at least I defended myself and Lucy. But that android had stepped in when he could have just left us to be beaten. Lucy was never in any real danger save some trauma. I didn't know what to make of the situation, and Lucy and I had already agreed not to say anything about it to her parents. I imagined they would fire me immediately if they knew as Lucy wasn't supposed to go out without their permission.

With one final straighten of my uniform, I leave the bathroom and head downstairs to see if Laura needs any help with the chores. Instead of finding Laura in the sitting room, I find myself face to face with Bryony Downs. She's sprawled out on the chaise lounge in a silky negligee. I wonder if she just got out of bed though it's past noon. Her petite body looks thin and weak, and I think I see a bruise on her thigh just at the hemline of her night slip. She's holding a glass filled with ice and what I assume to be gin.

"Laura," she greets, eyes a little unfocused.

"Anna," I softly correct.

"Oh," she says, eyes widening as she focuses in on my face. "The new one."

"Yes, ma'am." I stand and wait for a moment, wondering if she'll send me on my way. She doesn't. "Is there anything I can do for you, Madam Downs?" I ask, folding my hands before me, the perfect picture of innocence. The glue from the LED is beginning to itch, and I force myself to ignore it.

"You ever had a lover?" Bryony asks, and I cock my head to the side.

"No, ma'am. Androids don't form relationships like that." Nor did I, but that wasn't any of her business. My early twenties had been filled with coffee dates and doomed first kisses. I had trouble connecting to people. Everyone seemed to be lacking…something. I sure couldn't put my finger on what it was, but I'd settled into an early old-maid existence sans the fifty cats.

"Hmm," Bryony hums thoughtfully. "I suppose not. You're lucky you don't feel." I stay silent, waiting for her to continue. "Just when you think you're the pinnacle of their world, they toss you out like last week's garbage."

Has Mr. Downs been cheating on his wife? This is completely irrelevant to my investigations, but before I can excuse myself, Bryony continues.

"Wouldn't be so bad if it was just another woman. I know his tendencies, and I've ignored it in the past, but this time…this time it was-" Here she hiccups, waving her glass about so the cool brown liquid threatens to escape the rim. "This time it was one of those escort droids. He fucked a robot over me." She lets out a hysterical sort of laugh. I half want to disappear into the wall, half want to stay and see if this turns into a story. It's not exactly the angle I was given to work with, but it's a glimpse into how humans treat androids—one that sickens me to my stomach.

I still say nothing because androids aren't programmed to give relationship advice. Bryony seems to have forgotten my presence. She's staring off into the distance. My eyes trace the bruises again, and I feel a stab of sympathy for the woman before me. She's a shell now. I've seen pictures from years back where she's smiling brightly, hair shining, face glowing. A young socialite in her prime. Now she's wasting away under the weight of reality, and it doesn't suit her.

"What does an android understand of any of this?" she asks.

"I guess I don't," I hazard, hoping to keep her talking even still.

Bryony looks back up at me, and there is something in her eyes for a moment that borders between jealousy and compassion. It settles on the latter to my surprise. "Good," she says. "Don't ever try to understand it because there is nothing to understand. Humans are messy and chaotic. They're destructive. You're lucky you feel nothing of that." If only she knew.

I nod once. Madam Downs dismisses me with the wave of her hand, and I turn. Two steps from the doorway, she calls me back. "Anna," she says, eyes sharp, less hazy than before. "None of this conversation is to leave this room."

I nod again. "Understood."


	11. Chapter 11

**11 Detroit 8.30.2038 **

**10:34 pm**

**Downs's Mansion**

**Clara**

"So far I've had zero conversations with David Downs and one with Bryony," I say into my phone later that night. Tony is on the other line, checking in with me. Needless to say, the boss is not happy with the puny amounts of information I've gleaned so far. I want to argue it's not my fault, but a good journalist would take matters into her own hands.

"I'll poke around tonight," I tell him. Maybe if I can find something on David Downs, I can get Horowitz off my ass. "They're at a gala, so I've got the place to myself. Lucy is staying the night at a friend's house, and Laura tends to stay out of the way."

"Be careful." He doesn't need to remind me. "I'll see if I can buy you more time on your article. Maybe this just wasn't the right family."

"I did get cornered by an android-protestor earlier today," I say. I'd been hesitant to bring it up because I didn't want to admit how much it had rattled me. Even if androids didn't feel emotions like fear, they didn't deserve to be treated that way or take a beating. It wasn't their fault that people had lost their jobs. They hadn't asked to be created or ordered around. Ultimately humans were to blame, but sometimes it was easier to blame someone else—especially someone who couldn't fight back.

"What? Why didn't you say?"

"Because I didn't want you overreacting like an overbearing parent. But I might be able to write a piece on that."

"Do it," Tony advises. "Get it to me as soon as you can." A pause. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," I say. "I'll check in with you later, okay?"

"Sure. Be careful." Maybe he thinks I'll heed his warning the more he says it, but I have no choice but to dig a little deeper into the family if I want to learn anything about them. Some humans chat openly in front of their androids because they don't consider them to be an intelligent enough life form to register what's being said or at least to analyze it. The Downs family did not discuss anything in front of their androids. They didn't seem to talk much at all save the arguments I'd heard behind closed doors. I hadn't been able to make out much, but I had a feeling it was something to do with David Downs's company. I wasn't supposed to form personal opinions on them, but I already disliked him pretty firmly, especially after my strange conversation with Bryony earlier.

I open my door and peer out. Laura has her own room, and I hear nothing from within. I take the stairs carefully, avoiding any creaks, and head down to David's office on the second floor. The door isn't locked, so I slip in and turn on the desk lamp. The office is sleek and modern like the rest of the house, everything neatly placed. I'll have to be careful replacing objects. I shuffle through the paperwork on his desk, but it's nothing important, just notes and figures. His computer is locked—fingerprint protected, but I've watched enough cop shows that I get the crazy idea that I can hack it. A glass sits on the edge of the table, remnants of the drink still in the bottom. There's tape in a desk drawer, and I carefully lift the glass up to the light. A thumbprint is perfectly greased into the glass, and I smile gleefully, tearing a strip of tape and carefully placing it over the print. I have no idea if this is going to work, but I feel so badass doing it that I almost forget why I'm in here.

I'm shocked when the fingerprint pad recognizes the print and instantly unlocks the screen, welcoming David Downs. I have full access to his computer. Forget human-interest pieces on how people treat androids; I'm going for the top.

There's a file titled "Cyber Control App," and I click into it. The first thing that pops up is a list of figures. I gape at the numbers. The Downses are in debt. Like, really bad debt. Ever since the first android deviation, numbers have plummeted as people began to wonder if the app had anything to do with the deviants. I click into a "Finances" folder. David has taken out several loans. None of them are with banks I recognize, and I see that he's had several generous deposits from a Lazarus Benjamin. The name doesn't ring a bell, but I commit it to memory. I'll ask Tony to look into him. I've just clicked into a file titled "Project 55" when I hear footsteps outside the office. I freeze, hand hovering over the screen and then scramble to turn the lamp off. My eyes scan the screen as quickly as possible, and I take in blueprints and a location somewhere near the docks before I hit "log off" and look around the room for somewhere to hide as the doorknob twists.

No one was supposed to be home until after midnight. I have no time to hide anywhere, so I crouch under the desk, curling into the smallest ball I can manage and pulling the chair a little closer so it hides me. My cover will be completely blown if I'm found here. I should have just pretended I was cleaning, but it's too late now as the door opens. Someone approaches the desk and switches the light on. I hear the jangle of ice in a glass and then the sound of liquid being poured. The ice crackles and then clinks as the glass is swirled. I tense but whoever it is doesn't take a seat at the desk. I hear the glass hit the surface and then the footsteps recede back toward the door. I creep out and hazard a glance around the edge of the desk. It's David Downs, still in his tux though his bowtie is hanging loose, and he's discarded his overcoat. His phone begins to ring, and he answers it before it can ring again.

"Hello?" Silence. He turns back into the office, and I flatten myself against the desk again, heart resuming its panicked parade. "I told him I need more time." He grabs his drink again and takes another swig. "Things are…complicated. Unforeseen circumstances and all, you know how it goes." Another pause and this time I can hear an angry voice on the other line.

"Shit, you think I don't know that?" David sets the glass down with an angry slam. "I will have it by tomorrow night. Tell him to come talk to me face to face if he has a problem with that." A minute goes by, the voice on the other end of the line unintelligible. "Fine, fine," David says. "Tell him to come in the back. Wife might be home by then." Another stretch of silence and then, "He won't regret this. I have connections that can make him. Right. I'll be there." He hangs up and heads to the door.

I expect him to head to the master bedroom but, instead, he goes upstairs. Maybe he wants to tuck Lucy in? But then I remember she's at a friend's house tonight. Suspicious. I creep out of the office as soon as he disappears from view and follow him. He doesn't stop at the third floor, but continues on to the fourth to where Laura and I stay.

I stay in the shadows of the stairs and watch David enter Laura's room and close the door. It doesn't take a stretch of the imagination to figure out what's happening, and I cover my mouth in horror. Am I next? I can't go back into that little closet of a room. I hurry back downstairs and enter Lucy's room, locking the door behind me. I press my back to the door and take several deep breaths. It's not just escort androids David Downs has a taste for, and I feel bile rise in my throat at the thought of Laura putting up with that. She has no choice. I sink to the floor and pull my knees into my stomach. I could call Tony and have him extract me right away. He would, and I probably should, but the thought of leaving Laura alone sickens me even more. Maybe there's nothing I can do. Or maybe I can ruin David with what I know, save Laura and Lucy from him. Somehow. I text Tony the name I found in David's bank records and ask for him to look into it.

Twenty minutes pass. I hear footsteps creak on the stairs. They pass the door, pause. I stop breathing. Then he passes on, heading down to the second story. I hear the door to the master bedroom shut with a click and let out my breath. My phone vibrates, and I nearly jump out of my skin, but it's just Tony replying.

_Lazarus Benjamin has a record,_ the text reads. _He's a red ice dealer. Is he involved? Clara, you need to get out if he is. He's bad news. _

_I'm fine,_ I text back. _But David has been cashing checks from him._

_Do you have proof?_

I let out a sigh. Why hadn't I thought to take a picture on my phone of the records? I'd been interrupted before it had even occurred to me.

_No._

_Then we can't do anything. We don't write articles with untraceable sources. _

_Understood. Give me a little more time._

_Be careful. I mean it. If Downs is mixed up with Benjamin, then this might go deeper than we thought._

_I will, Mom_, I reply, but suddenly I feel in over my head. I'm no longer safe here. If David Downs has a taste for androids, it's only a matter of time before he moves his interests to the new one in his house.

…

I sleep in Lucy's room that night. I don't feel safe returning to my little closet upstairs, and I know she wouldn't mind. Her bed is much more comfortable than the hard cot, and I hold one of her stuffed cats close to my chest. I wake up with a start to a sound. It's unclear as my sleep-grogged mind tries to process the noise. The clock on the bedside table reads 3:03 am. I slip from the bed and open the door, peering out into the dim corridor.

"How could you!" a shrill voice cuts through the silence from downstairs. "How could you!"

I slip down the stairs, heart pounding in my chest. The voice comes from the conservatory, and I see Bryony Downs standing there in a gold dress, diamonds dripping from her ears, wrists, and neck. She's pointing an accusatory finger at a crouched figure. I see red glowing in a circle and realize it's Laura. I creep closer, eyes taking in the scene bit by bit. Laura is crouched by the edge of the pool, holding her hands to her head. They're covered in red, and it's smeared across her cheeks and uniform. Something solid lies at her feet, one hand dangling into the pool, staining the perfect water red. It's David Downs, and he's very clearly dead. He lies in a pool of blood, and there's a gun a few feet away. He's been shot in the head, and his dead eyes stare up at the ceiling. Bryony is in hysterics. She reaches for her phone and dials what I can only assume to be 911.

"I need police here immediately," she shrieks into the phone. "My android has gone deviant and murdered my husband!"


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the reviews! I so appreciate everyone reading! I'm playing the game right now and North running through Jericho when Markus first arrives made my heart jump even though I've probably played this game like 30 times. I'm so close to 100% on the game, but I'm down to playing out all the really depressing endings...

* * *

**12 Detroit 8.31.2038 **

**3:20 am**

**Downs's Mansion**

**Connor**

The flashing lights are harsh against the night. Last time I was sent in by CyberLife to be a negotiator. This time it's as an investigator. I've been asked to analyze the deviant android before it's taken into custody. As soon as I learn which house I'm being summoned to, I think of the girl posing as an android. I'd thought before that she had been some sort of private investigator, posing as an android to gain access to the Downs's home. Now, I wonder if she was the one who killed David Downs. If so, I'll have to reveal her identity.

I rub my hands together, approaching the front gate of the mansion. There are two policemen on guard as curious neighbors begin to leave their houses to see what's happening.

"My name is Connor," I say as I reach the guards. "I was sent by CyberLife to investigate the deviant."

The police eye me and, for a second, I think they might turn me away. Then finally they nod, stepping aside to let me pass. My voice and appearance were created to put humans at ease but, so far, I haven't found it successful.

The front doors to the mansion are wide open, so I step in. Police and CSIs are swarming the mansion. Most of the action seems to be in the conservatory at the back of the house. Since I've been here before, I know just where to go. No one pays me any mind as I approach.

The body lies beside the pool, blood spilled out around his head. It's stained the water too where his lifeless hand dangles over the edge. There is a gunshot wound to his head. He was facing his attacker when he was shot, the bullet lodging in his forehead. The impact sent him backwards, but the shot must have been fired long-range or else there would be more damage to the head. I kneel outside the pool of blood to analyze the body.

_Deceased_

_Downs, David_

_Height: 5'11" – Weight: 140.3 lbs_

_Estimated Time of Death: 12:01am_

The bullet wound to the head killed him, and the gun was sitting a few feet away, an evidence marker set next to it. I finish analyzing the victim before moving on to the gun. David Downs is wearing a white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone. His dress shoes are polished. He'd just gotten home from something and had only had time to take off his tie and jacket. I move onto the gun. There are no prints on the handle, which would line up with the deviant android using the weapon. Androids don't have prints, after all. There are a few scuff marks on the gun as if it was tossed across the floor or dropped.

I raise my eyes to across the room where the back doors to the conservatory are flung open to the night. I get to my feet and approach the door. There are no signs of forced entry, but with all the surveillance cameras I noted outside the house, I don't suppose the Downses always bother with locks. The shot must have been fired from here or somewhere near to it. I study the doorframe and find trace amounts of gunshot residue. The gun was fired from the doorway. Outside the patio is paved, and the lawn is kept pristine and trimmed. I can find no traces of footprints.

"Have the surveillance videos been checked?" I ask one of the officers, stepping back inside the conservatory.

"Cameras got turned off at eleven ten. It looks like David Downs turned them off for whatever reason," the officer tells me.

That's odd. Why would he turn the cameras off? "Can you tell me where I can find the deviant?" I ask. Hopefully analyzing her will yield more definitive clues.

"She's being held in the sitting room. The wife and other android are there too."

"Thanks."

I move off to the sitting room, wondering who will be the accused deviant: the android or the human. I was stupid not to see that she was human before, but I suppose I would never expect a human to impersonate an android. It's irrational behavior, and I can't understand it. I straighten my tie before entering the room.

My eyes find the deviant first. She's hard to miss with hands covered in red blood, marks across her cheeks and uniform to match. Her LED is blinking red, and she stares straight ahead. It's not the human.

Mrs. Downs is no longer in the room, and I'm informed she's been sent to bed after giving her statement. "She found her husband about 3:03. The deviant was kneeling next to the body, covered in blood. Mrs. Downs immediately contacted authorities. She and Mr. Downs were at a gala downtown but left separately. She said Mr. Downs left around 10:20. She stayed on until after one. When she returned home, she claims she fell asleep in her dress. She figured her husband was working late in his office. When she awoke around 3 am, she went to look for him. The conservatory doors were open, and she claimed they always kept them shut at night. That was when she found her husband and the android."

My eyes find the human girl. This time I run a facial scan instead of scanning her LED. Her identity matches the blood I found in the alley.

_Weber, Clara_

_Date of birth: 8/22/2010_

Her eyes meet mine from across the room, and she narrows them at me, lifting her head a little as if to challenge me and what I know. I want to know why she's here, but I turn to the deviant first. This is my mission, and I can't let myself get distracted by the girl.

I kneel to position myself at the android's level. She's still staring straight ahead, and I don't think she even registers that I'm in front of her. "Laura," I gently prompt. Slowly, her eyes focus on mine, a pale brown that holds fear and panic. Signs of deviation. "Laura, can you tell me what happened last night?" I keep my tone calm, gentle. I can tell she'll respond best to this. Intimidation or threat would shut her down before the interrogation began.

"I didn't kill him," she says at once. Androids don't lie with two exceptions: one, they've already deviated, and two, they were programmed to be able to lie without detection like me.

"His blood is on your hands," I tell her, motioning to her bloodstained skin. She tucks her hands in closer to her body, defensive.

"I found him right after he was shot," she says. "I needed to see if he was still alive. He wasn't."

"Why didn't you call the authorities?" I ask her. That should have been her first response even if she hadn't been ordered to do so. "Why did you wait until Mrs. Downs found you with the body?"

"I was…frightened," she says, lifting her eyes to me.

"Androids don't feel fear." She winces at this as if I've struck her.

"I haven't deviated," she says softly. "I was in shock. I—I didn't know how I felt about him being dead." Her last words are barely above a whisper as if she doesn't want anyone else listening in.

"Can I talk to you?"

I didn't sense the human approaching me, but now she stands next to me, looking down with determined eyes. I should finish up with the deviant, but somehow I don't think I'll get any further with her at this point. I might need to rethink my approach to get her past the denial. Perhaps I'll learn something more from the human. She motions me in to another room that sits off of the sitting room. It appears to be an office—Mrs. Downs's by the looks of it. I want to ask the girl why she's posing as an android, but I decide to let her speak first to see which approach she's going to take and if she'll offer up that information freely.

She stops a few paces away from me before turning, LED flashing blue. I can read the emotions in her eyes though—human emotions. "Laura didn't kill David," she says, words sharp, definitive. She really believes that.

"Did you see what happened?" I ask.

She crosses her arms, a human motion. "No. I was asleep, but Laura has shown no signs of deviation. She's loyal, and she's not violent."

"Deviants don't always show signs before they snap," I tell her. "It can be a traumatizing event that pushes them over the edge."

The girl casts her eyes down, and I can tell she knows something I don't.

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" If she doesn't open up, I'll have to tell her I know who she really is.

"Laura was… I think she was being abused by Mr. Downs," she says finally, her voice choking a little on the words.

"Physically?" It's not uncommon for owners to beat their androids from time to time. It's not fair, but we're not alive, so I suppose it doesn't matter in the end.

She bites her lip. "Yes. I—I saw him visit her room last night." She waits to see if I understand. I do.

"I see. And has this been happening for a long time?"

"I don't know. I'm new here. He seemed like he knew what he was doing, and his wife told me he sees escort droids occasionally. She was furious with him—she could have done it."

"The android was found covered in David Downs's blood—"

"Her name is Laura," the girl corrects, cutting me off.

"Laura was found covered in his blood."

"He was shot, right? I doubt Laura even knows where to get a gun or how to handle one. David was in trouble—debt and he was getting loans from a red ice dealer."

I narrow my eyes. "How do you know all this? Did he tell you?"

"No, no, I…" She stops talking, realizing she's dug herself in too deep. "Oh, for god's sake, you know who I am, so stop pretending otherwise!" She glares, and I realize she wants me to say it.

"You're human. You're not an android," I tell her.

"When did you know?" She gives me a wry smile. "Clearly this was a ridiculous ruse in the first place."

"I sampled the blood you left behind in the alley yesterday after the protestor attacked you." The girl leans against the desk in the center of the room, relaxing her body.

"But I fooled you before?" she asks, satisfaction lighting her face.

"I—I had my suspicions," I stutter, feeling incompetent. I should have noticed right away when I couldn't read more than her basic information. "But you did perform the role quite convincingly. Can I ask why you were pretending to be an android?"

The girl narrows her eyes. "What's it to you?" she asks. I'm getting nowhere, just like with Laura, but I force myself to be patient.

"I'm just…curious."

"Curiosity is a human trait," she counters.

"True, but I was designed to help with investigations. That function comes with some traits that are usually considered to be human."

She seems to accept this. "What's your name?" she asks. It's a simple question, but it catches me off guard.

"Connor," I say.

"I'm Clara." She pushes off of the desk and stretches out a hand. For a moment, I just stare at it. I've never been offered a handshake before. It's so human that I almost don't know what to do. Then, I reach out and take her hand, giving it a firm shake.

"I thought you were intimidating at first," she tells me, taking a step closer, eyes observant, scrutinizing. I can almost hear her brain whirling inside her head. "But up close, you look just like us. With the exception of—" She taps her own LED to mime mine.

"That's a real LED," I say, nodding to hers. She winces again.

"Yeah. I didn't pry it off an android if that's what you were thinking."

"You didn't answer my question before."

"About why I'm here?" I nod, and she sighs. "Why not. I work for _Detroit Today_. The newspaper? I'm a journalist, and this was my article." She waves a hand around, but I'm not quite following.

"The Downs family?" I hazard a guess.

"Sort of. My article was going to be about how humans treat androids in domestic settings. I mean, most everyone owns an android, but everyone treats them differently. This was meant to give an insider's view on how the android gets treated."

"So no one here knew?"

"No. I suppose my cover is blown now." She looks at me as if asking if I'm going to turn her in.

"Your presence here is irrelevant to my investigations," I assure her. "But I would like to talk to you more about the murder and what you know about the Downs family."

"Of course," she says, softer this time. "I'd like to help. For Laura, mind you. David…" She cuts off, but I had the feeling she was going to say something unkind. "Well," she finally finishes, "he did something to upset someone."


	13. Chapter 13

**13 Detroit 8.31.2038 **

**3:55 am**

**Downs's Mansion**

**Clara**

"What do you mean?" Connor asks me, and I'm finding him so much less intimidating now that I know his name. Well, maybe just a little less. There's something intensely focused about his soft brown eyes, and it hardens them. I have to remind myself he isn't human because he looks so real, and I don't think I've ever interacted with an android for this long before. I want to step closer, maybe reach a finger out to feel his skin again. It felt real when he shook my hand, and I can't forget the look on his face—surprise, shock even. I don't suppose many humans offer their hands to androids. He even has moles on his cheeks and soft lines to his forehead.

"He took out loans from a known red ice dealer," I tell him. I shouldn't be giving away leads, but he's not a reporter, and I have to draw suspicion away from Laura. I genuinely believe she didn't kill David. Something feels off. Her LED hasn't stopped glowing red, but she's in shock. I don't believe that an android has to be a deviant to feel shock when they've been through something traumatic. I understand what Connor meant when he said sometimes deviants just snap because people do too. We all have our limits, but Laura isn't angry. She's not apologetic or vengeful. She's just scared. I think she found the body—maybe even saw what really happened—but everyone is pointing a finger at her, so what chance does she stand? I can't help her as an android, but maybe I can convince Connor of her innocence. "David took a call just after ten thirty—maybe around ten forty-five. He was meeting someone." I frown, trying to remember the wording of the conversation. "He asked them to use the back door because Mrs. Downs might be here. What if whoever came to the house shot him?"

"If Mr. Downs owed them money, then why would they shoot him before they could get it back?" Connor reasons.

"I don't know! You're the detective!" I'm losing my patience, so I try again because that won't get me anywhere. "I really do believe she's innocent," I say, softening my voice. I need him on my side and acting defensive is not going to accomplish that.

"I know you want to believe that—"

"You're not listening." I hate the pleading note that has entered into my voice, but I know there's more to this than a deviant android reaching the end of its tether. "Please."

He's an android. He should sympathize with another android. He tilts his head just a little to the side, LED flashing yellow briefly before returning to its normal blue. I'm not sure what that means, if I've triggered some sort of response, or if I'm just testing his patience.

"I will get to the bottom of this," he finally says, his voice soft, calming.

He turns to head back into the sitting room, but I throw one last question at the back of his head. "Whose side are you on anyway?"

He pauses before turning back, brown eyes looking lost for just a second. I wonder if he has any of his own beliefs or just what he was programmed to think. "I'm not on anybody's side," he answers. "I'm just here to investigate, to get the facts."

I watch him walk away before following him back into the sitting room. I stand against the wall, stiff, uniform, like an android is supposed to be. If Laura gets hauled off, then I'm left alone with the tattered remains of this family. Lucy would be devastated if both Laura and I left though. I can't leave her. It occurs to me that it's impossible to stay. I'm not really an android, and Lucy will probably hate me when she finds out I've been lying to her. I'm surprised by how much this concerns me. I'm supposed to be impartial, just like Connor, but I've already made an emotional connection.

I try to steel myself as Connor resumes his interrogation. Laura hasn't budged, but this time Connor doesn't sink to her level. He stands above her, and I know he's going to intimidate her. I want to stop him, but I need to let him do his job.

"Where did you get the gun?" Connor starts, voice hard. I wonder if anything I said has had an impact on him.

Laura looks up at him. Her LED is still red, and I want to go over and soothe her. "I've never held a gun," Laura says. "I didn't shoot him."

"You were found with his body covered in his blood with a gun a few feet away," Connor continued. "How else do you explain that?"

"I-I found him that way. The gun was already there."

"You said before you found him right after he was shot, but how would you know that if you hadn't shot him yourself?" I don't like this ruthless side of Connor. It's much easier to see him as an emotionless robot when he's interrogating Laura like this.

Laura says nothing.

"Why did you go back downstairs if you didn't kill him?" It's a valid question, and I'm pleased that Connor's tone is softer now.

"I—" She hesitates again. "I can't say. I don't know."

I frown at this.

"Can't say or won't say?" Connor's voice is hard again, and now he crouches to Laura's level. She looks at him with frightened eyes and shakes her head.

"I was told not to say anything. I can't say. I can't." She begins to rock, and I've had enough. Connor be damned, I stride over and sit next to Laura, taking one of her hands in mine despite the fact that it's covered in dried blood. David's blood.

Connor throws me a frustrated look, but I cock my head at him—a challenge. He chooses to ignore it. "Did someone ask you not to say anything?" He tries the soft approach again. I squeeze Laura's hand, and her LED flashes red once more before fading to yellow. Connor shoots me a look of surprise that I find oddly satisfying.

Laura nods, the movement so slight it could be mistaken for more nervous rocking.

"She hasn't deviated," I tell Connor, and he turns his eyes to me. He looks a little dazed as if he doesn't quite know how to proceed. "Someone asked her to keep a secret, and she's obeying orders by keeping it."

"David is dead. It can't have been his orders," Connor says, rising and beginning to pace. I notice him pull something silver from his pocket, fiddling it before slipping it back in.

"Can androids take orders from strangers or does this mean it was someone else in the house?" I ask. Laura doesn't seem to register that I'm speaking about androids like I'm not one. I don't really care at this point.

"It's possible unless an android is specifically programmed to only obey their owners." I hated the way he used the word 'owners' like androids were just things. I had seen proof that they were more than that. Connor seemed more self-aware than other androids I'd come across, but did he still think himself an object to be owned?

"Can you tell us anything more?" Connor asks Laura. "If you really are innocent, we need more than this to prove it."

Suddenly Laura's LED fades to blue and her grip on my hand loosens, eyes going unfocused. I find the shift strange, as if she's resetting. "I shot him," she says, and I stare at her in shock.

"Laura, no! You didn't shoot him. You already said you didn't."

Laura doesn't look at me but stares straight at Connor. "I shot David Downs."


	14. Chapter 14

**14 Detroit 8.31.2038 **

**4:24 am**

**Downs's Mansion**

**Connor**

"She didn't murder him!" I'm barely out the front doors to the mansion when Clara chases after me. The authorities had taken Laura into custody, prying Clara's hand away from her. Laura hadn't fought it, and something wasn't sitting right. I hadn't been fully convinced she had shot David Downs. Why then had she suddenly confessed? I wasn't seeing the whole picture, and I didn't like that. I should have considered my mission complete. I had analyzed the scene and gotten a confession out of the deviant. Why did I feel no satisfaction, only doubt?

I stop and turn around. It's still drizzling outside, and the droplets run down my face. Clara stops in front of me. "I think you know that." It's hard to see her face in the near dark, but I imagine it's lit up with determination.

"Not everything is adding up," I admit slowly.

"So what are you going to do about it?" she asks, direct. I haven't ever had this long of an interaction with a human before. It's unsettling because I don't feel I have a response for everything she says to me, and she's difficult to read. I no longer know what her mission here is since she's not playing her role as an android anymore.

"My job here is done. It's up to the police now."

"They'll shut her down without a second thought." Her words are disbelieving, but she expects too much of me. She expects empathy.

"Yes, they will." I don't see the use in lying.

"It's not fair. Someone is using her. Someone else murdered David."

"I'll make a suggestion that the detectives look further, but I'm not sure they'll listen to me."

"Why?"

I think about this for a moment. "Because I'm not one of them," I finally answer.

"Because you're an android, you mean. Humans don't value your opinions because they don't think you're alive." I can't tell if she agrees with this or if she's just making a statement.

"I'm not alive." I don't mean the words to sound harsh, just truthful, but she winces all the same.

"You look alive. You sound alive. Do you think so little of yourself?" Her words are almost tender, but I don't know what I've done to earn them.

"What I think of myself is irrelevant."

She laughs softly, but I don't see what's funny. "I'm wasting my time," she says. "You have no interest in helping Laura, just following your orders. I guess you have no interest in the location of David Downs's secret warehouse then." She starts to walk away. I should too but she's carefully placed the bait, and I grimace before asking, "What warehouse?"

She stops and glances over her shoulder. "Keep trying to help Laura, and I'll tell you."

"I don't see how that's relevant to the investigation."

"Connor, do you want to solve this case and catch the real murderer, or do you want to go back to wherever you came from and contemplate the poor, innocent android that you doomed and how she'll be deactivated and destroyed just because some human ordered her to lie?"

"I don't feel emotions. I'm not sure why you're trying to appeal to them." I think she already knows she has me. She just smiles.

"You said it yourself: curiosity is a part of your job."

I should say no, but this could have relevance in my investigation. And I _am_ curious. I take a deep breath, and she grins before I release it. "Okay, but I'm going alone."

"Oh, no. No, that's not how this works," she says. "I will take us there, and we will investigate together."

"Does this have to do with your article? I thought you were writing about human/android interactions."

"And what better research than teaming up with my very own detective android?" she asks.

"I'm property of CyberLife—" I try to interject, but she rolls her eyes.

"You're too literal. Just, wait here. We're too obvious. We need to blend in if we're going to go poking around the docks." She starts back toward the house.

"We're going right now?" I ask. It's late—or early rather, but she's practically jumping with energy.

"What better time?" she asks before vanishing back into the house. I pull out my quarter and flip it in my hand, more to calibrate my patience than my dexterity.

It doesn't take her long to return, toting a bundle of clothing. She tosses a jacket at me, and I nearly drop my quarter catching it. She's donned a jacket that covers her android outfit and a baseball cap that covers the LED. I shake out the jacket she tossed at me and then pull it on over my own suit.

"And this." She hands me a beanie hat.

"Is this really necessary?" I ask, thoughts brushing over the fact that I'm most likely wearing a dead man's clothes.

"Just humor me."

I would tell her that jokes are not a part of my programming, but I don't think it would make a difference so I shove the hat onto my head. "Happy?"

"Very. I'm an investigative reporter—well, I have been as of a week ago. This is the stuff of dreams." She starts toward the front gates. The police are finishing up, and no one pays us a second glance.

"Did you find out who David contacted through phone?" Clara asks as we start down the sidewalk.

"He didn't have his phone with him. I assume the police have it." She bites her lip, and I can tell she's disappointed.

"The paper has some contacts within the police. I'll have it looked into." She looks so eager, such a change from when she was trying her hardest to be an android. It suits her. Humans weren't meant to function like androids, and I'm not sure how she pulled it off for as long as she did.

"Where are we going?" I ask as we continue down the street.

"The docks are just a couple miles from here," she says, glancing back. "Twenty minutes tops on foot."

"We could take a taxi," I suggest, but she shakes her head.

"Too visible. We're going for stealth. We have no idea what David was hiding here. I didn't get a chance to look into the file further, but I have a hunch that this is important."

"A hunch?" I wasn't sure that was the best reason to be walking two miles in the rain at 4 am.

"It's this thing humans get sometimes," she tells me.

"I know what a hunch is," I amend. "I just wonder if this is—"

"If you say pertinent to the investigation one more time," she threatens, falling into step with me. "If we can prove David had fallen in with the wrong people, we might be able to deflect blame from Laura."

"You're forgetting she's confessed." Even if she was innocent, no one was going to question her confession. Anyone besides Clara anyway.

Something buzzes in Clara's pocket, and she pulls out her phone. "Shit!" she curses, and I glance over to see a stream of missed calls and messages. She hits a button and puts the phone to her ear.

"_Clara?!_" I hear the worried voice on the other line and wonder who it is. She doesn't wear a wedding ring, but it could be a boyfriend or a family member.

"I'm so sorry, Tony. I spaced calling. I'm a horrible person."

I catch a few words from the other side of the conversation like _police_ and _murder_. Clara sighs.

"I know, I know. Listen, a lot has happened." She quickly recounts the events of the night. "I think David Downs was into some bad shit. Laura confessing like that just didn't seem right. It was almost as if someone had hacked her programming to make her say that." She stops short, mouth gaping open, and I walk a few steps before realizing she's not moving anymore. "That's it!" she says, voice pitched with excitement. "Someone _did_ program her to confess! David Downs invented the Cyber Control app. Someone could have interfered with her remotely."

It's not entirely far-fetched, I have to admit. Who was controlling her though? Mrs. Downs is who first comes to mind, but she wasn't in the house when David was murdered. Unless she was trying to cover up the dirty business her husband had been involved in.

"_Where are you now?_" I hear the man on the other line ask.

Clara glances at me. "I'm, um, I'm with the android sent to investigate the murder," she says.

"_What? Why?_"

"We're looking into something." She winces at the man's reply. "I'm okay," she tells him. "I'm in good hands. I think." I don't blame her for not trusting me fully, and I don't quite understand why she initiated this team-up to begin with. "Just trust me, okay? I'll check in with you every fifteen minutes if it makes you feel better. Hey, while you're up, can you look into David Downs's phone records? He got a call earlier before he was murdered, and it sounded like someone was going to meet him and that's why he turned off the security cams. Probably didn't want his wife knowing what he was up to. Yes, I know I promised an article. This one will be even better than the one I had planned. Yes, yes. I _know_, Tony. Fine. Bye." She hangs up and glances at me.

"Work," she says. "He worries about me like a mother bear." She rolls her eyes, but I hear a note of affection in her voice.

She starts walking, and we fall into step again. I'm not programmed for small talk, so we walk several blocks in silence. She seems preoccupied, but finally she breaks the silence.

"Can I ask you a question?" Her eyes are inquisitive, a bright blue that stands out even in the dark. We've left behind the mansions and estates, and here streetlights are few and far between.

"Sure."

"You were created to hunt deviants, right?" I don't remember telling her that, but she elaborates a moment later. "Laura mentioned that when you were investigating guests at Mrs. Downs's party. Do you really have no opinion when it comes to androids? Deviants want to be free, but you're hunting them down. You don't consider them your people?"

It's difficult for a human to understand though their kind has turned against each other frequently throughout history. "I'm programmed to be impartial."

"So you really feel nothing?" Her words are blunt, and I think I detect a hint of disappointment though I can't imagine why she would be disappointed.

"I don't feel emotions. I just wasn't built that way. No android is."

"And yet deviants feel." She stops at the street corner to wait for a lone car to pass.

"It's an error in their software," I press, but she's shaking her head. "Why do you care so much?" I ask. I know that there are human sympathizers, but I've never met one before. It fascinates me that Clara is so determined that androids have feelings.

"Because, even if they're not alive, they don't deserve to be treated the way they are," she says, eyes boring into mine. "You think because Laura 'doesn't feel' that David had a right to rape her? You think it's fair that she was most likely programmed to take the fall for his death?"

I struggle to answer, never having been asked such a direct question like that before. "I'm not the right one to ask those questions."

She laughs, but this time I recognize that there is no humor in the noise. "No, clearly you aren't."

We walk in silence the rest of the way until the docks come into sight. The rain hasn't let up, and the hat is soggy on the top of my head. I turn up the collar of the coat even though I don't register the chill of the rain. Clara seems oblivious to it.

"We're looking for a warehouse with the number 55 on the outside," she says. "There was a picture of it in the file. I wish I had time to research ownership, but I did research the family extensively before I came to work for them. David Downs has never shown any signs of interest in the marina. He doesn't even own a boat."

"It could be a front for something else."

"Obviously." She rolls her eyes again. Nothing I say seems to satisfy her, so I keep my mouth shut as we cross the street to the docks. The smell of salt and brine and fish is heavy in the air. I don't process it as unpleasant, but I notice Clara wrinkle her nose.

"What do you think we'll find?" I ask.

"David borrowed money from a red ice dealer, but he had to be giving something in return. Criminals like that don't just hand out money to rich guys who are down on their luck. David did mention that he had some clients he could talk to and that he would have something by tomorrow night. He didn't say what."

"I guess we'll never know now."

"That's defeatist," Clara accuses. "Maybe something in this warehouse will give us a clue as to what he meant."

The docks are littered with large, metal shipping crates in varying colors, and we weave between them, looking for warehouse 55. I probably should have reported in to Amanda before we started for the docks, but I don't want to miss anything now that we're here. It's a good thing I do stay in the present because a moment later Clara grabs my sleeve and tugs me behind one of the crates.

"What?" I start, but Clara cuts me off with a look. She bobs her head toward the docks, and I see two figures standing in silhouette against the water. Clara presses against the metal of the crate we're hiding behind. I move closer, trying to see what the men are doing. Clara is taking up the best view, so I try to peer over her shoulder without crowding her. I can feel her shivering beneath her jacket despite the warm night air. The rain dots her skin, running down her cheeks and neck.

I see one of the figures pass something over to the other, but we're too far away for me to analyze.

"Probably red ice dealers," Clara says darkly.

We stay hidden until the two figures move off and wait a few minutes to be safe. Clara glances up at me, and I realize I'm still standing close. I take a step back, remembering that humans don't like their personal space to be invaded.

"Come on."

Clara leads on, shoes slapping the wet pavement. I spot the warehouse first, pointing to the bold 55 on the outside. It appears to be abandoned, but I insist we circle first. I hope there will be a window to peer through, but there's nothing. The door is firmly bolted, a complicated looking digital lock blocking our entrance.

"There has to be another way in. Unless you can hack the system."

"I can hack it," I say against my better judgment. Maybe I'll just leave this part out of my report to Amanda. It's not relevant…yet.

Clara gives me a surprised look. "Great," she says. "Please feel free to do so."

I reach a hand out, vanishing the skin for a moment so that the reflective white of my android hand is revealed. Clara stares but says nothing. I press my hand to the pad and close my eyes, LED flickering to yellow as I dive into the system. This feels wrong, but I'm committed now. Somehow I think Clara might hold me hostage until I get this door unlocked and, I have to admit, I'm eager to see what lies inside. The door clicks, authorization accepted, and I push it open. I move to enter first, not knowing what to expect. Clara moves at the same time, and we run into each other. She lifts an eyebrow at me, and I step back, allowing her to enter first.

The room is silent and dark. I can see fairly well, but Clara stumbles. "Is there anyone here?" she asks. I scan the room for heat signatures.

"No one."

"Then can we turn on some lights?" she asks. "I can't see a thing." She wobbles toward the wall, searching for a light switch and then curses when she kicks something.

"Here." I find the light switch and flick them on.

One by one, fluorescent lights click on, bathing the warehouse in a sickly blue glow. Clara turns, and we both freeze at the sight before us.

"Oh my god," Clara gasps.


	15. Chapter 15

**15 Detroit 8.31.2038 **

**Warehouse 55**

**Clara**

Androids. That was what David Downs was hiding. The warehouse is like a graveyard for broken down models. Arms and legs are strewn across work tables, and spare eyeballs fill glass jars. I put a hand to my mouth. A few models stand against one of the walls, eyes glassy and lifeless. Their LEDs do not blink.

"What is this?" I breathe. I turn to look at Connor whose mouth hangs open a little.

"He was trying to build androids from spare parts," he says. "But why?"

"He invented an app that could control them. He obviously understood how they worked. Maybe he was trying to compete with CyberLife since his company was failing."

"That could result in major lawsuits," Connor says. "Maybe not if he was working from scratch, but these androids originally came from CyberLife." He walks over to investigate the lifeless androids standing in neat rows. He reaches out a hand to touch the lifeless LED, and I think I see something pass over his face. Emotionless or not, this must be a particularly disturbing sight for him. I scan some of the blueprints on a table.

"Maybe he wasn't building androids," I say slowly, pushing aside the blueprints and schematics. "What if he was trying to prove that his app didn't cause deviations? Maybe he was trying to figure out what caused androids to deviate."

"Maybe."

I walk over to his side and examine the androids. They all look as if they've been patched together like David was dumpster diving for spare parts to build a whole. One android has two different skin tones on her arms while another has one blue eye and one brown.

"Can you wake one up?" I ask. "Maybe they can tell us something."

"They're missing their pump regulators."

"What do those do?" I ask. That sounds important, but I've never studied the anatomy of an android. I'm still slightly disturbed by the way Connor peeled back the skin on his hand to unlock the door.

"They keep androids functioning," Connor says. "It's like the android equivalent of a heart and keeps Thirium flowing." I make a face at him. I really don't understand the terminology. "Thirium is more commonly called blue blood," he explains.

"Ah, right. So can we find one of those in this mess?" I have no idea what it looks like, but that's why I have an android with me.

"Possibly. We're looking for a round object. Approximately eight inches long with a three inch diameter."

"Round. Got it." He's so technical that it exhausts my brain listening to him. We split up, searching the warehouse. I don't see anything that looks like what we're looking for but whenever I find something I don't recognize I call out to Connor to have him identify it. Partially to annoy him because I'm getting impatient and it's amusing. He's patient on the outside, but I can see that my questions are wearing on him. He can't be used to this much human interaction since usually androids are ignored unless absolutely necessary. I don't think he quite knows what to do with me, and my mind is whirling with possibilities for the article I owe Horowitz.

"Do you like your job?" I ask as we rummage through some of the plastic bins lining a tall storage shelf. "And don't give me that 'I'm not programmed to have an opinion' crap."

"I find it satisfying to follow evidence," he says finally. "Analyzing crime scenes is methodical. I haven't been in service for long. I was created earlier this month."

"Wait, what?" I pause, turning to look at him. "You're not even a month old?"

"I haven't been activated for a month, but—"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Right, right, but you're like completely new to…life. Forget programming for once. Programming means nothing when you're tossed into the real world and have to interact with pushy humans like me." He seems to consider this, eyes flitting to my face before moving away as if he agrees that I'm pushy but is trying to remain neutral.

"I suppose so, yes," he finally replies.

"Hmm." I can't imagine being so highly functioning after being alive—or as close to alive as androids get—for less than a month. "Sooo, any ideas about what's causing deviancy?" I ask, trying to play it casual. I literally have the best contact ever standing right next to me. I can't lose this chance.

Connor sets down the part he was looking at and turns to fully face me. Okay, so maybe he's less naïve than I was hoping. "I'm not giving you information for your article," he says, tone light but firm. I smile sweetly at him.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I might have been created recently, but I'm a trained negotiator. I know manipulation when I see it."

"Fine," I relent. Let him think I've given up. I can get something out of him. "Off the record though. You said deviants are often acting out in reaction to some sort of traumatic event. Do you think maybe since they weren't programmed to feel emotions, they get to a point where they can't deal with the emotional situations that humans put them in? It's almost like overstimulation."

"That lines up with what I've seen," Connor admits.

"I guess the million dollar question is whether or not CyberLife is to blame." I know he'll never tell me that. Maybe he doesn't even know if CyberLife created him to investigate deviants. I'd say that indicates they're unsure of the cause just like everyone else.

Connor says nothing, so I drop it. "What about this?" I hold up a round object that looks important. Connor's brown eyes light up. He reaches forward and takes the part from me.

"That's a pump regulator," he says, inspecting the wires. "Seems to still be intact. Let's give it a try."

I follow him over to the androids, and he stops in front of a male with sandy hair and blank green eyes. He's shirtless, and Connor presses his fingers to his stomach, his fingers turning white once more. The android's skin turn's white as well, and a panel is revealed. Connor slides it open, and I see some of the inner workings of the android.

"That's…moderately disturbing," I tell him. He ignores me, sliding the regulator in and turning it until it clicks. It whirls to life, shining blue, and Connor shuts the panel. The androids skin turns back to human, and its LED blinks to life. Red and then yellow before turning to blue. His eyes come to life, and he looks at Connor and me.

"Awaiting instructions," he says in a monotone voice.

"What is your function?" Connor asks the android.

"I am programmed to serve my owner," the android replies rather unhelpfully.

"Who is your owner?" I ask. The android turns to look at me.

"Voice recognition does not recognize your voice," he says before turning back to Connor.

"Well, that's rude," I say. Connor tries again, repeating my question. For some reason the android seems to have no problem answering him.

"David Downs," it says at once.

"What functions does your owner ask you to perform?"

"A variety of functions."

"This is going nowhere," I say, crossing my arms and tapping my foot on the ground. My shoes squelch with rainwater, but I'm in no hurry to return to my cramped room in the Downs's mansion. My phone vibrates, and I look down to see a message from Tony asking if I'm still alive. I respond quickly and turn back to the interrogation.

"I can connect with it," Connor says, furrowing his brow. "That will give me access to its memories."

"By all means. Your creepy robot tricks came in handy getting in here." The furrow in his brow deepens. Too far? I decided I'm too wet, cold, and tired to care right now.

Connor reaches out a hand and grips the android's forearm. His hand turns white again as does the android's arm. Connor shuts his eyes, and all I can do is wait. It takes a good three minutes before Connor blinks his eyes back open. I half wish for a moment that androids could connect to humans so I could see what he saw, but the thought of having him share mind space with me freaks me out a little too much.

"What did you see?" I ask as he withdraws his hand.

"David Downs was designing these androids to be runners for a red ice drug lord. They were programmed to self-destruct should they ever get caught so they couldn't be traced back to their origin. The Cyber Control app would be used to send them their next mission."

"This was what he wanted to reveal tomorrow," I say as the pieces begin to click together. "This was what was going to get him out of debt."

"Why then would someone kill him before then? It seems unlikely that one of the drug dealer's men would kill him if he had something to offer them," Connor says, rubbing his hands together in a thoughtful gesture.

"But they aren't ready," I point out. "We found one pump regulator. He's in debt, so he can't buy more. What if his financer got tired of waiting? We need to find out who he made a phone call to." I text Tony to see if he has anything, but his contact isn't on a shift right now, so we have to wait until morning. I take a few pictures on my phone for proof. The lineup of androids, the schematics, the dismembered parts. The model Connor brought to life stands still, awaiting orders.

"Can we order him to not tell anyone we were here?" I ask Connor.

"I might be able to erase his memories of us," Connor says and connects to the android once more. Then he opens up the panel in the front and removes the pump. The light dies from the android's eyes, and I feel a twinge of sympathy. Connor replaces the pump where we found it. I'd been careful to pick up objects with my sleeves pulled over my hands to avoid leaving prints. Just in case. I didn't know if there was anything else to find here, but I wasn't ready to give up. There wasn't enough to help Laura, and I was beginning to feel defeated.

"There has to be something more." My mind is beginning to clog with sleepiness, and I can hardly put two thoughts together.

"I'm not sure there is," Connor tells me. "The only prints I've found in here are David's, and these androids are programmed to obey him. Everything we've learned is mostly supposition, and it has nothing to do with Laura."

My shoulders slump forward. I know he's right. I don't know what I'd been hoping we'd find. Not that this isn't completely newsworthy, but it really doesn't help Laura.

"I suppose I should get back to the mansion before Mrs. Downs realizes I've disappeared." I find that I don't really want this night to end. It's been exhilarating. This is the first time I've been out investigating, and this is exactly where I'd envisioned myself when I was studying journalism in school. I didn't see much action when I was stuck writing human interest stories, but this…this was a pure adrenaline rush. I turn to Connor. "Is this it?" I ask. "Is there anything you can do to prolong Laura's shut down?"

He thinks for a moment. "I can bring this new evidence to light. Perhaps with the red ice connection, they'll take a closer look into David's under-the-table business."

"Thank you." I mean it. He could just tell me it's not in his programming and walk away, but he's offering to help.

"You're welcome. Let me walk you back to the mansion."

He locks the door behind us, and we start back toward the mansion.

"What do you do when you're not on a mission?" I ask, remembering how the androids at the party stood against the walls like statues.

"I go back to CyberLife and wait for new instructions," Connor tells me. He's rolling something around in his fingers, and I see now that it's a quarter. He rolls it over his knuckles with an impressing level of dexterity before stowing it away again. I wonder if it's a nervous habit, but androids don't get nervous. It's so easy to forget he isn't human, especially with the beanie pulled over his LED. It doesn't hurt that he's rather pleasing to the eyes with his dark brown hair, neat with the exception of one strand that I noticed tends to hang down into his face. He breathes and blinks and thinks for himself.

"I take it you don't get bored then."

"No."

"How many missions have you been on?" He glances at me, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Off the record," I add. "I'm just curious."

"This was my third," he answers after a moment. "My first mission was negotiating with a deviant who found out it was going to be replaced. It shot its owner and kidnapped their daughter. I managed to save the girl."

"I read the story in the paper. Tony covered it, actually. What happened to the deviant?" I remember the scare it caused. I didn't believe that all deviants wanted to hurt humans, but I could understand the fear owners were feeling. Maybe if they treated their androids better in the first place, this wouldn't be a problem.

"It's in custody. It'll be shut down," Connor replies.

"Why were his owners going to replace him?"

Connor shrugs. "They wanted a newer model."

"That's terrible. I heard the daughter had a close relationship with him. She loved him like family and vice versa."

"It's true some androids can form connections with humans. It's not unheard of." Connor says this like he can't imagine forming such a connection, but I see right through him to a softer side. He was programmed to work alongside humans, so it's only natural that a connection might be formed. I get the crazy thought that maybe it's me he'll connect with, that we can keep investigating together, but I shake the thought from my head at once. I'll probably part ways with Connor tonight and never see him again. I'm surprisingly disappointed by the thought. I find him fascinating, and I want to question him until my throat goes dry. I'd never taken much interest in androids before this assignment. My family hadn't been rich enough to own one although prices had gone down recently, especially since deviants had been cropping up. My mom was old-fashioned, and she'd taught us to pick up after ourselves. After my dad's accident, he'd stubbornly refused to get an android to help out around the house. Now that I'd seen several of them up close, I had more questions than I knew how to ask.

We don't speak the rest of the way, and soon the mansion is in sight. We pause at the front gates. Connor pulls the jacket and hat off, and his LED glows bright blue in the night.

"Will you let me know if you find out anything more?" I blurt. I have no idea how he'd contact me, but I find I can't just let him leave with no promise of being kept in the loop. "I'll probably be here. Maybe. I have no idea actually." I frown, unsure of what tonight means for my mission.

"You're not a part of this investigation," Connor says softly, and I can tell he's trying to be gentle.

"So?" He takes a breath. "Please," I add before he can counter. "I just want to know if Laura is going to be all right."

"Fine," he relents. "I'll let you know. I'm trusting you to keep your promise of not writing an article about the information we discussed."

"Just the stuff I said 'off-the-record' for," I tell him with a grin. "Don't worry," I add at the strained look on his face. "I won't mention you. But that warehouse—you wouldn't have found that without me, so that's fair game."

He doesn't argue. "Goodnight, Clara," he says.

"Bye." I watch him walk away before slipping into the shadows and taking off my coat and hat. I smooth my hair, which has gotten frizzy from the rain, and enter through the kitchen door. The house is quiet and still, completely dark. It feels empty without Laura even if she would have been tucked into her little closet at this hour. I go back to my own closet and curl up on the bed. I'm asleep within seconds.


	16. Chapter 16

**16 Detroit 9.1.2038 **

**9:34 am**

**Downs's Mansion**

**Clara**

I wake up to a pounding on my door which I didn't realize I'd locked when I'd fallen into bed last night. I get up, tidying my appearance, and open the door to find Mrs. Downs standing on the other side.

"You're still here," she says. Her eyes are red, raw, and she's dressed in black.

"Yes, Mrs. Downs." I stand straight. Tony wanted me to pull out, but I want to wait and see what happens. I might learn something more if I stay.

"I no longer require your services," Mrs. Downs says, and I blink.

"Ma'am?"

"I don't want one of the _things_ that murdered my husband under my roof!" she shrieks at me. It takes everything not to jump back. "Not near me, not near my little girl."

"Laura didn't murder Mr. Downs." The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to think about them.

Mrs. Downs looks at me—surprise mixed with fear. "What did you say?" Her voice is a harsh whisper.

"Laura is innocent, and I think you know that."

Now Mrs. Downs's eyes widen. "You're one of them," she says in a hushed tone. "You're a deviant."

"What? No!" I realize too late what I've done.

"I'm calling CyberLife. Let that deviant hunter deal with you." She moves to slam the door, and I try to catch it. I have to pull my fingers back before she shuts them in. I hear a lock click on the outside. I turn the lock on my side and rattle the knob, but it doesn't open. Panic is starting to well, but Mrs. Downs said she was going to call in the deviant hunter. That was Connor. Would he help me or would it risk his own position? I couldn't rely on him.

I turn to look out the window above the cot. It's small and round, but I'm able to push it open. I'm fairly slim, not quite five foot seven. It will be an acrobatic feat to get out without falling off the roof and breaking my neck, but there's no way I'm waiting around for the authorities to come. I text Tony that I need extraction immediately but to wait down the road. Now for the window. I scan the roof below. It slopes gently, and I can use the roof of the dormer to support myself. I should be able to climb the roof to the conservatory where I can use the thick ivy that conveniently grows along the back of the house to climb down. This plan is hatched with the utmost confidence and also total bullshit because there is no way I'm going to pull this off without a broken limb.

I decide to go feet first, awkwardly sliding myself out, clinging to the window for support. My feet find traction, and I grab for the dormer roof. I'm out, and it's a very long drop down. I try not to look, but of course that's the first thing my eyes want to do. I've never been afraid of heights, but now seems like a good time to start. I have to force myself to take a deep gulp of air before moving. I manage to make it around the dormer and climb the slope up to the peak of the roof. I crouch because there's no way I'm standing up. My room faces west, so I need to move south to get to the conservatory. I move on hands and knees, a little movement at a time. I'm about halfway to the conservatory when I hear a car door shut. Shit, how long have I been up here? I hurry on a little faster, but my foot slips. For a second I hover, one foot dangling down the slope of the roof. I drag it back up and keep going.

The conservatory glass glints in the morning sunlight, and I manage to slide onto the roof without too much trouble. Here it gets tricky because the ivy isn't growing right up against the glass. I might have to jump for the vines and who knows if they'll support me. I think I can hear voices within the house, but I can't make out any words from up here. Listening in is not important at the moment, and I scoot over to the edge of the glass. The glass slopes at one point, so I can't really get that close to the ivy. I'll need a running jump, but it's a good five or six feet. I'm seriously doubting my ability to make the jump, and it isn't worth breaking my neck. I look around for another way down, but nothing stands out. There are a few vents in the ceiling to the conservatory to let out some of the collected heat. Two of them are open where the sun hits the glass, and I walk carefully over to them. One of them drops directly over the pool. The other… I slide over and peer down. A giant indoor tree stretches up so far that I can almost reach it from here. The branches are thin, but I think they'll hold me if I'm fast enough. Feet first again. I wrap my ankles around one of the branches, hands gripping the glass. My palms are sweaty, and it's difficult to get any grip. I try to slide my legs down a little more, reaching out one hand. I barely manage to grab the branch when my other hand slips. My body falls, and I know the branch is going to break. It doesn't. I send up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening.

From here, it's just a matter of scaling down. I've barely moved two feet down the tree when I hear voices approaching. I freeze. _Don't look up, don't look up_, I think, turning my neck so I can see who's coming. It's Mrs. Downs and…Connor. I'm half relieved, half scared to see the android. He's dressed the same as he was earlier, impeccable.

"The investigators already finished up in here," Mrs. Downs says. "I don't know what more you hope to find. The android is long gone."

They must have checked my room and seen the open window. A real android, especially a deviant, could have escaped easily. I'm still on the escape part of my escape plan, and it's hanging in the balance now. Literally.

"There's just something more I'd like to check," Connor says, and Mrs. Downs gives him a stern nod.

"I want you out of here in five minutes," she says. "I don't trust your kind whether CyberLife sends you or not."

Connor takes it in stride, and Mrs. Downs walks away. My arms are starting to tremble from where I grip the branch. I don't know how much longer I can hold on. Connor starts forward, heading slowly toward the outside door, but scanning everything on route. He's directly under me when the branch gives. It cracks, the sound so loud that it reverberates in the glass room. And then I'm falling. I hit Connor hard enough to knock him to the ground, and he probably saves my life by breaking my fall.

He cries out in surprise, LED flashing red a moment as I dazedly lift my head. Then I'm roughly shoved aside, back against the concrete of the floor and Connor's arm is at my neck, exerting enough pressure to make breathing hard. His eyes take me in, the LED flickering yellow. "Clara?" He lifts his arm, and I pant for breath. His tie is askew, and There's a scrape on his cheek where he hit the floor. Blue blood seeps around the edges.

"What was that?" I hear Mrs. Downs's voice, hear her footsteps striding quickly toward the room.

"Help me," I tell Connor. He stares at me a moment, LED still yellow, blinking. I can see him deliberating. Finally, he reaches out a hand and pulls me to my feet before pushing be behind the planter of the very tree I just fell out of. It's large and when I crouch, I'm able to hide my whole body.

Connor steps back out to confront Mrs. Downs. "One of the branches broke on your tree," he says.

I can't see anything from my position, but I huddle into the tightest ball I can fit myself into, hoping Mrs. Downs doesn't question him any further.

"It's long overdue for a trim," she finally says. She doesn't comment on his scrape, and I hear her footsteps fade away, back into the house. I think I hear Connor sigh a breath of relief.

"Are you okay?" he asks, crouching down to where I sit. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but you are." I reach up a hand to his cheek before thinking, fingers hesitating before they touch his skin. He blinks, not moving, and I draw my hand away.

"It's nothing," he says, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. It stains his skin blue. "What happened?"

"Mrs. Downs decided I didn't need to work here anymore, and I might have accused her of falsely accusing Laura of murder. She thinks I'm a deviant now."

The side of Connor's mouth quirks up, an almost smile.

"What?" I ask accusingly.

"Just the thought of you being a deviant. Humans will believe anything to explain something that doesn't fit within their idea of a perfect world." He looks thoughtful.

"How do you know so much about how humans think?" I know the answer before he says it and we reply at the same time, words nearly in sync. "It's in my programming."

He looks startled, and I shrug. "You're getting predictable, Connor."

He stands and offers me a hand again. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. "How _did_ you escape the room upstairs?" Connor asks, looking befuddled.

"I climbed out the window and walked along the roof. Then I climbed through one of the conservatory vents and onto the tree. You know the rest."

He looked impressed, and I felt my pride swell a little. It had been pretty bad ass. And incredibly stupid.

"I would be splat on the ground if you hadn't broken my fall, so thanks for that," I say. "Can we get out of here?"

He nods, and we move to the back door. "Did you learn anything more about Laura?" I ask though it was just hours ago that she was taken into custody.

"I presented my findings. I have been granted 48 hours to find another murderer. Otherwise Laura will be deactivated."

"That's great. Who else is on the case?" I ask. I can't believe they listened to him, but maybe not all humans are corrupt.

"Just me," he says.

"What?" My hope deflates.

"They don't think Laura's innocent. They're just humoring me, I think. CyberLife sent me, and the cops don't want to cross them."

"But CyberLife sent you to investigate deviants, not humans. They're really letting you keep working this case?" I ask. Connor pauses at the door, looking back to where blood stains the tile floors.

"I told them the case isn't over. I can't understand the deviant's behavior if she doesn't say why she murdered David and if she's innocent, then she's most likely not a deviant."

Finally, he turns away from the door and we enter the backyard. I pluck at the LED, but it's still firmly attached to my head. Connor notices the motion and smiles again—just a little—and I think he might be amused.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" Connor asks as we skirt around to the front of the house.

"Yeah, my coworker is picking me up. The one I talked to last night. He might have some information on David's phone calls by now. You can come with me, and he can update you."

We've reached the sidewalk now, but Connor hesitates. I turn back, frowning at him.

"Are you writing an article or investigating the crime?" he asks, wary. I realize he doesn't trust my motives, and I can't blame him. I am a journalist after all.

"I have an article to write, but I want to help Laura," I tell him. "You hunt deviants, I write about androids. Can't we work together, find a common ground?"

I expect him to say no, especially when he doesn't answer right away. But then he slowly nods. "I could use some inside sources if your press can provide them. I have limited access to information. The police...aren't happy about me investigating."

"Their loss," I say. Connor's brilliant at analyzing crime scenes in a way humans can't, but if they can't get past their prejudices, then they don't deserve to have him helping.

He cocks his head at me. His LED faded to blue after he got over the surprise of me falling out of a tree. Before either of us can say anything else, someone honks their horn. I see Tony parked across the street. He pulls up to us.

"What the hell did you get yourself into, kid?" he asks, eyeing Connor with a look akin to a dad eyeing his daughter's prom date.

"A bit of a mess, but I can focus on that article now." I bite my lip, wondering how pissed Horowitz is.

"Who's this? The android you mentioned before?" Tony asks, nodding at Connor.

"Tony, this is Connor. Connor, this is Tony. He works for _Detroit Today_ as well."

Tony doesn't extend a hand, and Connor doesn't either. I feel a stab of disappointment, but Tony isn't looking at Connor with hostility, just hesitation.

"We're going to be working together," I blurt. "Trying to prove the android Laura is innocent. It's the only way to get to the heart of the story," I add when Tony opens his mouth to argue.

"Horowitz is..." He hesitates, and my heart skips a beat. "He's ecstatic you lasted this long. He honestly believed you'd flunk out in the first five minutes. He's willing to wait a little longer for your article." He sighs deeply, tapping his fingers against the door frame. "When he finds out you're working with an android, he's going to be beside himself. This is more inside than we've ever been able to get with our articles."

"Not all of this is on the record," Connor says, stepping in.

"I can't compromise Connor or his position at CyberLife," I tell Tony quickly.

"Why the hell not?" Tony asks. "This story could make us, Clara!" He has this feral look in his eyes that only comes out when he's on the verge of a massively important article. "What is it like inside the mind of a deviant? No one has ever gotten this close before."

"Laura isn't a deviant," I correct Tony. He looks vaguely disappointed.

"But you've met other deviants before." He addresses Connor.

"I...I've met one before this," he says.

"He was the negotiator in the Philips case," I clarify. Tony had covered the case, and his eyes widened.

"Holy shit."

"Just...tone it down a little?" I ask as Connor's expression hardens. "Connor tells us what information we can have. If it doesn't compromise CyberLife or him, then we publish it." I hold up a hand as Tony's expression turns stormy. "We do not want to get on CyberLife's bad side. They could destroy us."

"Ah, shit, you're right," he says, bumping his fist against the car in frustration. He looks at Connor. "You're going to work with her on this?" he asks, protective again. Tony isn't married and doesn't have kids, and sometimes I tire of being his adopted daughter. He channels all those latent paternal instincts on me.

"I will. Clara says your paper has connections that might be able to help in this investigation. The police are not cooperating with me as much as I had hoped."

"Then we go around them," Tony says. "This could be dangerous." He gives me a long look.

"I know. I'm ready, Tony. I can't sit behind a desk the rest of my life." That was a worst nightmare for me.

"Fine. But you, you keep her safe, or I will hunt you down." Tony points a finger at Connor.

I roll my eyes. "I can keep myself safe, thank you." I did just escape across a rooftop after all.

"You say that now, but it's always good to have someone to watch your back. A partner."

I like the sound of that and turn to Connor. "Partners?" I hold out a hand. He hesitates a moment as if weighing the odds of this working out. He probably thinks I'm going to completely mess this up, and the probability of that happening is pretty high if I'm being honest.

Finally, he takes my hand in his. His skin is cool, soft. He gives my hand a firm shake. "Partners."


	17. Chapter 17

**17 Detroit 9.2.2038 **

**8:01 am**

_**Detroit Today **_**Headquarters**

**Clara**

I sleep for an entire day before going in to work. I'm having a meeting with Horowitz. A one-on-one which terrifies me, but Tony assures me I'm not in any trouble even though I'm no longer undercover. I'm meeting Connor later to begin our investigations into David Downs. I'm jittery, excited. This is so real, and I love the adrenaline rush that comes with investigating for an article. I did type up a human/android interest piece to present to Horowitz. It's along the lines of what I was originally going to write, going into detail about how androids were basically considered machines. They were encouraged to blend into the wallpaper and never speak their minds. It's full of compassion though I started off trying to write objectively. I don't know if he'll like it or not, but I poured my heart into it.

I knock on his office door and hear his gruff voice shout at me to enter. "Clara! The woman of the hour!" he greets me. A greeting like this is akin to a nomination for person of the year, and I allow myself to soak it in a little before sitting.

"How was it?" he asks.

I managed to pry the LED from my head after Googling some tips, and it left a red spot for over an hour. I kind of miss it, but I certainly wasn't going to go out into the streets wearing it after what had happened with the protestors.

"It was..." I didn't know what it was. Eye-opening? Depressing? Fascinating? "A little of everything, I guess? At first it was kind of fun playing the role, but then I saw how Laura was treated. By the end, I was scared of how the family might treat me because they thought I couldn't feel or react."

"I'm proud of you, rookie." This time the nickname doesn't sound like an insult. "You're the first human I know of to impersonate an android. No one else is fucked up enough to hatch such a scheme."

"Except you."

He grins and raises his coffee cup to me. "Except me. Lazaro says you have an in with CyberLife?" He sounds impressed, and Horowitz is never impressed.

"I met an android while I was at the mansion. He's investigating deviants. He's agreed to work with me. Sir, I know Laura—the android accused of murdering David Downs—is innocent. I think someone close to the family, or in the family, was controlling her through the Cyber Control app. She was adamant she hadn't murdered David and then suddenly she confessed. It felt off."

"I like this angle. How far will humans go to deny their own crimes and blame their robots?" He spread his hands out between us, mimicking a byline.

"I've promised Connor I won't reveal anything that will compromise his case or his position at CyberLife. We don't want to get on their bad side."

"No. They're pissed enough at me after last week's article. Do whatever you need. Full rein. Lazaro said you wanted phone records." He taps his phone, and my own vibrates. "They're yours. If we can find a connection between Downs and red ice dealers, that will be the story of the century."

"You say that about every story."

He huffs. "It's true. Nothing that gets printed here is anything _but_ top news." I'm not sure that's entirely true, but I don't argue.

"I did write the piece you originally wanted." I hand him a neat stack of papers. I always type and print my articles so he can chicken scratch them to pieces before they get published. He takes it but doesn't seem too interested.

"Fine, fine. When can you get me an article on the case?" he asks.

"Tony and I are going to collaborate. You'll have something by the end of tomorrow."

Horowitz still has that crazy gleam in his eyes. I wonder how many cups of coffee he's had. His office is chaos as usual, and it looks like someone recently broke in and looted the place. How he functions, I have no idea, but he knows where everything is down to his favorite paperclip.

"Go get em', rookie."

As soon as I'm out of Horowitz's office, I pull up the phone records. David made a lot of calls to his company and to what I assume are clients. His wife is listed a few times. I scroll forward to the night of the murder and there it is. 10:40 pm, duration 3 minutes. The caller is listed as 'unknown,' but there's a local number. I cross-reference and find both outgoing and incoming calls from this number. This has to be his connection with the red ice dealer. Horowitz also got me Lazarus Benjamin's criminal record. He's done time for dealing drugs, but is out on parole. Clearly his time in the clink hasn't taught him any lasting lessons if he's out dealing again. I sigh. An unknown caller isn't a connection, but I don't suppose it could be so easy as to list Lazarus Benjamin under that number or 'druggie connection.' Still, I deflate a little.

I don't have to meet Connor for another hour, so I start typing up what we've learned so far, making sure I'm careful to separate the 'off-the-record' items from the 'on-the-record' ones. Most reporters would say to hell with off-the-record, but I knew that if I was going to maintain this partnership with Connor, I would have to respect that boundary. There's something intriguing about him—something I've never felt toward other androids. He seems more self-aware, not just a robot programmed to follow orders. I know he has his orders, but I'd seen him think for himself and make judgment calls several times in our short association. Up until David's murder, I'd never heard Laura speak up for herself. Connor is different, and I want to learn more about him.

I get to the park ten minutes early, but Connor is already sitting on our agreed upon bench. Pigeons peck at the ground in front of him, and he watches them with an expression of mild interest on his face.

I watch him a moment before approaching. "If you feed them, they'll never leave you alone," I say.

Connor looks up at me, brown eyes soft in the daylight. "I don't have any food," he says, spreading his hands as if to prove it.

I take a seat next to him, and his gaze follows me, assessing, but not aggressive. I could almost call it curiosity and maybe it is. He admitted being curious was a part of his job, but sometimes I feel like it goes beyond simple programing. Maybe that's just me wanting to think androids are human.

"How are you?" he asks, and I cock my head at his pleasantries.

"Are you programmed to ask that?" I notice his brows furrow. I can't tell if he's confused or disappointed in my question.

"No." The word comes out almost defensively, and I can't help but smile at him.

"Sorry, I'm good," I reply, holding back a laugh. He looks like a puppy someone kicked, and I regret my accusation. "How are you, Connor?"

"I'm doing well." He squirms a little as if uncomfortable with our small talk.

"I have the phone records," I say, pulling them up on my phone. "I'm thinking this unknown contact is his contact with the red ice dealer. But I'm not sure how to proceed."

"Did you try calling the number?" Connor asks, frowning thoughtfully.

"No. I didn't know what to say. No drug dealer is going to just answer the phone and give away his identity to a stranger. He might not even pick up if he doesn't recognize the number."

"I can impersonate voices," Connor says, and I gape at him.

"You can?"

He nods. "It's..." He stops, and I know he was about to say 'part of my programming.' "It's something I can do," he finishes instead, and I feel bad for giving him a hard time the day before. "I can also make your phone register as David's number."

"Aren't you full of tricks today," I say, eager. I hand him the phone. "Wait, what should we say?"

He takes the phone and sits back to think a moment. "News of David's death is everywhere, but he might answer anyway."

"Or he might think it's the police since they have David's phone. Especially if this guy's our murderer."

"It can't hurt to try. I could pretend David isn't dead. That he faked his death. Even if it doesn't fool him, I can track his location through the connection."

I'm beginning to see that I made a very good choice partnering with an android on this. "Do it," I tell him. "It can't hurt to try, and maybe we can at least get a location."

"All right. I have to hear David's voice first. He wasn't there the night of the party."

"I'm sure there's some video of him speaking," I say, taking my phone back and looking up a speech David gave to the press awhile back on his app. He's denying that there's any connection to the app and deviants. I hand Connor the phone and he listens a moment before trying to mimic the voice. At first it's off, but then he adjusts it to sound exactly like David. I'm a little disturbed by it, but it's a handy ability.

He makes the call, and I lean closer to hear the conversation. The phone begins to ring. It keeps ringing, and I begin to doubt anyone will answer. Then, "Hello?" The voice is unsure, ready to hang up.

"It's me," Connor says, a perfect impression of David's voice.

"_Holy shit, man, you're supposed to be dead_," says the voice on the other end.

"That's the idea." Connor furrows his brow, and I think he must be tracking the signal. From the man's response, I don't think he's the one who murdered David. There goes that theory, but we could still learn something important.

"_I don't get it. You didn't say anything last night. Lazarus is pissed. Thinks you were trying to double cross him._"

So Lazarus hadn't killed David either. That we knew of. I wasn't ready to give up on that lead though.

"I have a location," Connor tells me quietly, holding the phone away from his mouth.

"_Are we still on for tonight?_" Connor looks at me. I nod.

"Yes," he says.

"_This is your last chance, so this better impress the boss._"

"You won't be disappointed," Connor says. "Same time and place as before?"

"_Eleven o'clock, warehouse 55,_" the voice on the other line confirms.

"I'll be there."

Thephone clicks, and Connor turns to me, passing it back. "That man didn't sound like he'd had anything to do with David's death. He was genuinely surprised to hear his voice," Connor says thoughtfully.

"And it doesn't sound like his boss had David murdered either. There has to be some connection though...something that gives motivation for someone to kill David. Where did you track his location to?"

"2403 East Vincent Street."

"That's Lazarus Benjamin's last known address," I say, pulling up the file on him that Horowitz had given me. "It's not that far from here. So how do we do this?"

"We could meet them at the planned time and place," Connor suggests.

"And say what? They're not going to give us answers. They might figure out that David is really dead and not show." I chew my lip, knowing the idea I'm about to suggest is probably terrible. "What if we go to the address where the call came from and check it out?"

Connor frowns, rubbing his hands together. Then he stands, pacing in front of me. "What would we learn from that?" he asks. I realize he doesn't like standing still for too long as if he's programmed to always be moving, always be working toward following his orders.

"I don't know." I stand too, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "We won't know unless we go," I say though I'm half-hoping he'll discount my idea and refuse to go. He doesn't, and I suppose I've piqued his curiosity. Programmed or not, I think he might be as curious as me.

"All right," he finally says. "Let's go."

"Wait," I say, putting up a hand. "You can't go dressed like that. You literally have 'android' written across your jacket."

"I don't have any human clothes," Connor tells me, furrowing his brow. "I'd never gone...undercover before last night."

"Come with me," I tell him, pocketing my phone. There's a thrift store three blocks away, so we might as well get Connor something that will help him blend in. Neither of us look like the kind of person who would be visiting a drug den, but we'll certainly get turned away if they notice I have a detective android with me.

"Where are we going?" Connor asks, falling into step with me.

"There's a Salvation Army thrift store three blocks east of here. We'll stop there before we head to Lazarus's house." Connor just blinks at me, and I can't tell if he's putting his trust in me or unsure of playing the part of a human again. No one notices him as we walk by. Half the people in the streets have androids pushing their strollers or carrying their shopping bags. I'd never really thought much about it before, but now it makes me angry to see humans being so blatantly lazy. It's like no one can bother to take care of themselves anymore. I can't imagine ordering Connor to carry something for me just because I didn't want to. It wasn't fair and even if he didn't feel emotions, I wasn't about to treat him any less than human. I shift my eyes to him, but he's focused on the street ahead of him. I want to ask him what he makes of all this, but I'm not sure he'd know how to answer me. I could keep asking questions until my curiosity was sated, but I would never know if his answers were programmed or real. I didn't even know if he _could_ answer for himself. I decide to stay silent as we enter the Salvation Army thrift store. The plastic models in the front windows are thankfully just mannequins, and the current selection looks suitable for what we're aiming for. I wander over to men's wear.

"You can pick," I say. "You can keep the jeans, but no one wears a white button-up when buying drugs." I haven't actually thought out what we'll do when we get to the house. I'm not about to actually buy some red ice, but maybe we can snoop without being seen. I'm probably going to get us shot, but my curiosity isn't going to let me turn back now.

"I-" Connor starts, looking out of his element. "I don't know what to pick."

"Pick something you like that doesn't look like you're about to go to a formal dinner," I say, pushing the hangers aside to find him a T-shirt. I pick out a horrendous Hawaiian print just to see if he'll try it on, but he's watching a woman down the aisle as she hands her android another shirt. The poor android is barely able to hold the pile of clothes the woman has handed her. A hanger drops to the floor, causing a clatter, and the woman turns a scowl on the android.

"That's the third thing you've dropped today!" she snaps. "Pick it up before you embarrass me." She moves off without bothering to help. I watch for a second as the android contemplates the hanger and the stack of clothes in her arms. Before I can come to her aid, Connor moves forward, picking up the hanger and handing it to the android. She grasps it under the pile of clothes and gives Connor a thankful smile and a quiet 'thank you' before following her owner.

I glare at the woman's head until Connor returns. "Is that for me?" he asks doubtfully, and I realize I'm still holding the shirt. I put it back, not in the mood for jokes.

"Let's hurry," I say, moving off to shoes while Connor picks out a shirt. I have no idea what size feet he has, but I pick out a pair of boots that look much more casual than his dress shoes. I add a black beanie that will cover his LED.

"How's this?" he asks, holding up a nondescript looking black shirt.

"Great," I say, not really seeing it. I thrust the boots and hat at him. "Try these on in there." I point to the dressing rooms. "Just tear off the tags if they work, and we'll bring those to the counter."

Out of my android uniform, I look like a teenager again with my skinny jeans, worn sneakers, and long-sleeved tee. I'm always cold, even in the summer, so I always overdress. I wait for Connor, my eyes on the rude woman who is tossing rejects at her android without a single word of thanks. If I stand here much longer, I'm going to say something, and it's not going to be something nice.

"How's this?" I turn at Connor's voice. And stop breathing. The shirt he's picked out is too thick for this weather, but he's rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. The shoes seem to fit, much different than the shiny dress shoes I'm used to seeing him in. The beanie is covering his LED, and he looks human. He cocks his head at me, and I realize I'm staring. And, good lord, my mouth is just the slightest bit open. Maybe I'd noticed that he was good-looking the second I met him, but I hadn't really acknowledged it until now. My heart has picked up its beat a little, the traitor. I shut my mouth and nod, not trusting myself to form words. He grabs his old clothes, and I tuck them into my messenger bag. I offer to pay for the clothes, but he has human money weirdly and pays for them himself.

"I'll consider it an investment," he tells me. "For our investigations."

I nod again, thankful he doesn't seem to pick up on my sudden inability to speak. I clear my throat as we head out of the store and say, "You look good," before I really think about what I'm saying. "I mean, human. You look the part. You...picked well."

"Thanks." He's studying me now, and I realize he's finally noticed my change in behavior. I feel myself blush before I can help it. "Are you nervous?" he asks.

I latch onto this because it's a hell of a lot better than explaining why I'm really acting the way I am. "A little. I've never done anything like this before."

Connor's lips turn up in what might be a smile. "You infiltrated the household of Cyber Control's founder and pretended to be an android—quite successfully, I might add. That's pretty impressive."

"I guess I'm sort of the go-home or go-big sort of girl," I say with a grin.

"Have you always wanted to write for a newspaper?" Connor asks. It can't be a part of his mission to ask questions like this considering I'm not a part of his mission at all.

"Pretty much," I tell him. "I've always been a writer, and I've definitely always been nosey. It...didn't win me any favors when I was in high school, but I've done okay since then. There's just something thrilling about getting to the truth, but this is the first time I've really been able to work on a story like this."

"I get that thrill that comes with finding out the truth," Connor says, face pensive, words hesitant as if he isn't quite sure if he really means that. "I know it's what I'm programmed for, but there is something satisfying about investigating."

"You're allowed to have your own opinions, your own interests," I tell him though I'm not entirely sure I have any authority to say that. It's all right with _me_ anyway. I've grown accustomed to his LED, and I find myself looking at his eyes more to try to read his emotions (which of course he's not supposed to have). He's not giving anything away though, his soft brown eyes glowing nearly amber in the sunlight. They're nice eyes, and I find it hard to look away.

"I guess I haven't really had much of a chance to form them," Connor finally says, his tone a little more confident this time. "That lady back at the store." He hesitates, glancing at me. I've half-forgotten he isn't human by now, each mole and on his cheeks so imperfectly scattered. "I didn't think it was fair the way she treated that android. I know androids are created to serve humans but, from what I've seen, it's given humans permission to treat androids inferior to them." He glances at me, and I can see something like anticipation there—wary anticipation as if he expects me to tell him he's out of line. I don't.

"You're right," I tell him. "Absolutely right. When I'm writing these articles, I'm not really supposed to take a side, but how can I not? Humans blame androids for taking their jobs, never mind that humans created androids to be their slaves to begin with. Technology is a slippery slope when people create something more complex and intelligent than themselves. We've caught it on its downward spiral. Maybe we'll see how it ends, or maybe we'll pass on our mistakes to the next generation. History has a tendency to repeat, and humans are notorious for not learning from their mistakes. You're lucky you're still new to the world. It hasn't taken anything from you yet. But it will." I didn't mean to get so dark, but it's hard to talk about our country's state of affairs in a positive light these days.

"Did...did something get taken away from you?" Connor asks. He doesn't think he's earned permission to ask this yet, but he can't help but to. I find I don't mind, but I'm also not ready to answer that.

I shrug. "Life has a way of taking more than giving." I leave it at that, and he doesn't ask any more questions. I hate to staunch that flood of curiosity, but I'm not ready to open up. Connor's still a stranger, and I don't know how long our association is going to last. It's not like he's going to tell anybody, but I want it to count if I do tell him. I want to confide in him because I trust him, not because he's convenient.

We fall silent and, after a moment, I notice him playing with his quarter, flicking it over his knuckles like he can defy gravity with the flick of his fingers.

"You're good at that."

He surprises me by dropping the quarter. It clatters to the sidewalk. He stares at it a moment as if not quite believing he'd dropped it. "Thanks." He stoops to pick it up before pocketing it. "It's to help with reflex calibration." I have the feeling it might also be a nervous habit, but I don't press it.

We walk the rest of the way in silence until we reach Lazarus Benjamin's house. It's in a sketchy part of town below the new freeway that's still under construction. The sound of power tools and heavy machinery is a constant hum. I see foreclosure and for sale signs lining the streets and can't blame the owners for wanting to sell up. I'm not sure who would want to live here though. Lawns are brown and dry from the heat of the summer, and most of the houses have peeling paint and dirty windows. There's an overturned garbage bin across the street, and I think I see movement inside. A rat, maybe? I don't wait around to find out.

"Lazarus's house is that one," I say, nodding to the one down two houses from the corner. Now that we're here, my knees feel shaky. I don't really know what to say or do or what I'm trying to figure out. Connor doesn't speak, and I realize this was my idea so I'm going to have to be the one to figure this out. We start down the street, and I notice an alley running next to his house. It looks like the kind of place murders might be committed, but I turn down it, peering through the rundown slats of the wooden fence surrounding Lazarus's house. There's an open window upstairs, and I can hear voices. I press close to the fence, listening.

"...got a call from him this morning, but boss thinks it's a set up. I swear to god, it sounded just like him." I think I recognize this voice from the phone conversation Connor had in the park.

"How does the boss know he's dead? Did he shoot the bastard himself?" I don't recognize the second voice, but I dislike whoever it is instantly. There are certain voices that give me the creeps, and he's got one.

"Boss doesn't do his own dirty work. You know that, man."

"So is he gonna go tonight?" Creeper-voice asks.

"Downs swore up and down he had something that was gonna make the boss a lot of money," the man from the phone says. "He's gonna sniff around, but if he even catches a flash or red and blue, he's out. If Downs isn't really dead, he's gonna be if this is a set up."

I turn to Connor. "It doesn't sound like he's involved," I say. Not that druggies or criminals are the most truthful people, but Lazarus still needed something from David. It didn't make sense to murder him _before_ the big reveal. My mind is still trying to process what we've overheard when I heard the crunch of gravel. A car turns down the alley, heading straight toward us.

"That car is registered as Lazarus's," Connor says in a low voice.

"Shit." He can't find us here. We got what we came for, and I'm not going to put our mission at risk now. We could run, but I really don't want a price on my head if Lazarus thinks we're undercover cops or something.

Sometimes, when I have to make fast decisions, I make really bad ones. This turns out to be one of those times when my brain focuses on one option. I don't think about it, just act.

I grab the front of Connor's shirt and push him against the fence before kissing him.


	18. Chapter 18

**18 Detroit 9.2.2038 **

**10:30 am**

**Connor**

I freeze as Clara presses her lips to mine. My eyes are still wide open, and I have no idea what to do. This is not in my programming. I know she's using me as a distraction, trying to make it look as if we weren't just eavesdropping below the open window. I close my eyes and wrack my brain for any useful information on how another human would respond to being kissed. My hands are stiff at my sides, so I move them to her hips. She jumps a little at the contact like she wasn't expecting me to reciprocate. I've never even thought about the idea of being kissed before because it's not something that would ever come up in a mission. But adapting to humans is one of my functions. Clara is just testing that. I tentatively try to kiss her back, unsure if I'm doing it right. Her hand slides up to my jaw from where it was grasping my shirt in a death grip. Usually my thoughts are clear, direct, but they're scattered now, and I can't seem to focus.

The car honks lightly before pulling into the back of the yard. Clara leaps away from me, blue eyes wide. Her cheeks flush immediately, and she stammers out an apology as quickly as she can, practically tripping over her words. "I am _so_ sorry," she says, putting a hand to her mouth. "I shouldn't have done that. I just didn't want him to think we'd been eavesdropping."

"It's okay, Clara. I understand," I say. She looks horrified, and I realize we're going to have our cover blown if we keep standing here. "We should go," I say, and she follows as we continue down the alley and out onto the street on the other side.

"Seriously though. I shouldn't have done that," she says as we start walking back the way we'd come. "I don't know why I did it. What must you think of me..."

"I don't think any differently of you than I did before," I assure her. She glances at me, and I think I see a flash of hurt in her eyes before she replaces it with a smile.

"Good," she says. "I still shouldn't have put you in that position."

"I'll consider it a learning experience." I was too surprised in the moment to think about how the kiss felt, but now I realize it wasn't entirely unpleasant. I just can't _feel_ what humans do when they decide to kiss each other.

"You're not a bad kisser," Clara says and then blushes deeper. "Oh god, just kill me now. I'm digging myself in deeper."

"Let's just focus on the case," I say because I'm having difficulty concentrating. My mind keeps straying back to that unfamiliar feeling of Clara's lips on mine, the warmth of her hand on my jaw. I'd never been touched like that before. I knew it hadn't meant anything but, for a moment, I'd felt human.

"Right. Good idea." Clara clears her throat, and I can tell she appreciates the change of subject. "So I think they might have been telling the truth," she says. "It doesn't make sense to murder David before he reveals what we know was to be the androids. Only David—or an android who's handy at hacking—could get into that warehouse."

"I think you're right," I agree. "Who does that leave?"

"Laura, but I refuse to even consider that she's guilty."

I frown. Instinct tells me she's right. Laura only claimed guilt at the end of the conversation, and it certainly seemed like someone was controlling her.

"Bryony was at the party until late, so she couldn't have murdered him unless she was lying. We need to check her alibi," Clara says. "Otherwise, I have no idea. I'm sure someone with a company as big as David's would have enemies. He wasn't exactly a warm and loving person."

"I'll see if I can get a more extensive background check on him," I tell her.

"I'll look into the wife's alibi." She gives me a look—almost shy—before asking, "Unless you want to check into that together. Not like, _together_, just..." She sighs. "Like partners. You might pick up on something I don't, and I'm kind of terrified of facing her alone after, you know, impersonating a household android under her for several weeks."

"Sure," I say. It will be interesting to see what Mrs. Downs's response is to Clara, and something compels me to be there to intercede should she get upset.

"We could go now." She drags the words out as if she's afraid I'll say no.

"I have nothing else for today," I tell her. I've told Amanda that I'm looking further into the investigation. She wasn't pleased that I rejected the idea of the android being guilty and insisted that it was not CyberLife's business whether or not someone else had murdered David Downs. After I told her about the warehouse and the androids being modified there, however, she gave me permission to keep investigating. I don't think she approves of me partnering with Clara, but I insisted that Clara would help me open doors that I couldn't unlock on my own. I don't like the distrust that coated Amanda's responses, but it's only strengthened my resolve to solve this case.

"Great." Clara beams, her face lighting up. She's in her element, I can tell. She seems to have forgotten her earlier embarrassment, chatting animatedly as we walk back to where she parked her car at her newspaper office. Her car is as blue as her eyes, an older model from the early-2000s.

"I like older things," Clara tells me, unlocking the doors with a click. "This is the first car I bought on my own. It's getting up there on miles, but I don't trust those new cars they're coming out with."

It smells like some sort of dessert inside-I spot an air freshener attached to her mirror-and there are books scattered here and there along with errant papers. Like Clara, the car is unassuming, but I'm beginning to see there's a lot more to her than what I first imagined. She's young, probably late twenties, but she doesn't seem overly concerned with keeping up with the times. Music fills the cab as she turns on the engine, and she self-consciously turns down the dial. I focus, analyzing the music as the song continues to play. It's an indie-pop band from New Zealand, the music dated back to the same era as her car.

I want to ask her what her interests are outside of writing. It's not relevant, but if we're going to be working together, it makes sense to get to know her better.

"What do you do in your spare time?" I ask. She glances over at me, and I realize the question is a bit random.

"Read, stream TV, eat way too much popcorn," she lists off. "I know, such an exciting life."

"Do you...live with anyone?" I inwardly wince. That's probably too personal of a question. I'm about to try to retract it when Clara answers.

"Nope. Just me."

"I don't mean to pry..."

"You're not," she assures me at once as she signals and pulls out of the parking lot. "I don't mind. It's...nice to have someone to talk to. I guess I spend a lot of time alone. Except for when I have dinner at my family's house." Her voice grows lighter, happier, when she mentions her family.

"Tell me about them."

"Well, my mom and dad are one of those couples that have been together for ages. They met in college and got married right after they graduated. They're really supportive. I have an older brother. We...don't always get along, but he's not bad. I'm pretty close to his wife."

"Have you always lived in Detroit?"

"I wasn't born here, but I've lived here most of my life. My great-grandparents immigrated from Germany and, for a long time, my family lived in Pennsylvania. We moved here when I was three when my dad got a job offer."

"What does he do?"

"Did." There's a change in her tone, and I realize I've hit upon something she doesn't like to talk to. I wish I could take it back but, again, she doesn't seem offended. "He was in an accident and had to stop working. Now he's started his own online business, but the accident left him paralyzed."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I want to learn more about her. The idea of a family is fascinating, and I wonder what it feels like to have that kind of connection to someone. I don't feel like my creators are my family, and I have no emotional attachment to CyberLife. Of course, I'm not supposed to feel emotional attachments. I'm not supposed to feel emotions. I'm just...fascinated by them, I suppose.

"It was rough on my family, but we coped. I like to think we're stronger for it. I moved out after I graduated from college, and by then my brother was married and had his own family. Things aren't the same, and I sometimes wish things could go back to the way they were but," she shrugs, "it's not good to live in the past." There's that haunted look again, and I wish she trusted me enough to tell me what it is she's hiding. It takes more than a few days of knowing someone to trust like that though, and I don't know if we'll even know each other long enough for her to confide in me. After we solve this case, there's no reason for me to see her again. I'm surprised that this thought gives me displeasure. It's nice having someone to work with, especially when I'm still learning to interact with the human world.

"Here we are," Clara says a few minutes later as she pulls up to the familiar mansion where we first met. "Mrs. Downs is going to flip. Maybe I shouldn't be talking to her...she could potentially sue the newspaper."

"You don't have to tell her you work for the paper," I suggest. "You could pretend you were an undercover investigator. Maybe we can get her to open up about her husband's link to red ice."

"Smart, Connor," Clara praises me. "I don't suppose you have any fake police badges. Actually." She reaches across me to the glove compartment and flips it open pulling out what appears to be exactly what she was looking for. "I forgot I had these! I've never used them." She pulls out two fake police badges, pocketing one before tossing the other back in. "She already knows you work for CyberLife. Now I just need to play the role of an undercover detective."

"I think you have acting down," I tell her.

"Let's hope so. Come on." We get out of the car and cross the street. The metal gates are shut, so Clara presses the intercom. There's a long silence, and I start to think no one is home. Then, "_Who is it?"_ I recognize Bryony Downs's voice on the other end. She sounds strained, suspicious.

"Detroit Police. We have a few more questions about your late husband," Clara says, asserting some authority into her voice as she holds her badge up to the surveillance camera.

"_Aren't you done yet?_" comes Bryony's voice. She sounds harried, and I wonder if she'll let us in.

"Sorry, ma'am. Just a few more ends to tie up."

There's silence on the other end, but then the gates start to open. We slip in, and they close behind us. "It's like deja vu," Clara says. "Only this time I'm not working for her." She smooths her hair, giving away her nerves.

She reaches out to knock on the door, and it opens almost at once. Raccoon eyes greet us as Mrs. Downs peers through the slit in the door. It looks as if she hasn't slept in several days, and her makeup is smeared. Her gaze passes over Clara before centering on me. Her eyes narrow, but she says nothing as she opens the door wider for us to enter.

"Thank you," I say, but she ignores me, walking a little haphazardly into the sitting room where I'd interrogated Laura the night before. "We're sorry to bother you," I tell her, waiting for her to offer us seats. She doesn't, dropping down onto the chaise lounge without a word.

Clara stiffens as the woman's eyes flit to her, but Bryony Downs doesn't seem to recognize her. Clara sits down on the sofa, and I join her, the cushion dipping a little so that my knee bumps her leg. She doesn't seem to notice, her attention riveted on Mrs. Downs.

"Again, we're sorry for your loss," Clara begins, but Mrs. Downs waves her apology off.

"Just get your questions out of the way. I have a migraine," she says.

Clara sits up straighter, and I can see anger building on her face. I reach out a hand and lay it gently on hers where it rests on her knee. She starts, blinking at me, but then she seems to calm down, relaxing her posture. I draw my hand back, and she questions Mrs. Downs with an even tone. "Could you remind me where you were the night of the murder and what time you got home," she says, pulling a notepad out of her jeans pocket.

"I've gone over this again and again." Mrs. Downs puts a hand to her head, a dramatic gesture, I think.

"Please, ma'am. Just one more time." Clara holds her pen poised above the pad.

"I was at a charitable event at the City Center for disabled children," Mrs. Downs says. "I was there until after one in the morning helping take down."

"How did you discover your husband?" Clara has written down notes, and I notice she puts a question mark next to 1 am. David's time of death was shortly after midnight, so unless Mrs. Downs took a quick trip home to murder him, it's not looking like she's our suspect.

"I came home to find the doors open to the conservatory. We always keep them shut at night. I found that thing standing over my husband's body." There's spite in her words, and she glares at me. Clara shifts her body subtly as if to shield me from Mrs. Downs's wrath.

"Is there anyone who can corroborate your alibi?" Clara asks, no hint of sympathy in her voice.

Mrs. Downs turns cold eyes back to her. "Do I know you?" she asks. "You look familiar."

"No. You don't know me." Clara raises her chin, defiant. "Please answer the question, Mrs. Downs."

"Any of the women from the event can back me up. I'm sure my alibi has already been checked, so I'm not sure why you're asking."

"Just dotting the Is and crossing the Ts," Clara replies.

"There's a program on the hall table that has the list of sponsors," Mrs. Downs says. She rises. "Is that all?"

Clara and I get to our feet. Clearly it's time to go, and I don't think we'll get anything more out of David's widow.

"For now."

Clara and I turn to leave, but Clara hesitates in the doorway. "Did you feel anything?" she asks, and Mrs. Downs tilts her head to the side, not understanding. "When you tossed Anna out like yesterday's garbage."

Mrs. Downs's eyes widen, but Clara's already turning away, snagging the program from the hall table and flinging open the front door. I shut it behind me and hurry to catch up to Clara.

"She knows now," is all she says, and I don't think it'd be a good idea to question her further. She hands me the program. "Let's go check her alibi."


	19. Chapter 19

**19 Detroit 9.2.2038 **

**12:25 pm**

**Clara**

"And you're sure she didn't dip out of the building at any point before that?" I ask, patience fraying.

"No, I'm sure she didn't," says Annalise Smithson. She's one of the ladies who helped Bryony with the charity function. I found her having coffee (which I strongly suspect is spiked with some alcoholic beverage) with another society lady. Melony Clark has the biggest, blondest hair I've ever seen while Annalise looks like the kind of woman who lets her husband tell her what to do all the time. I don't like either of them, but they've been consistent so far in explaining the events of the night.

"She was in charge, and Bryony does not let other people handle her charity events." There's a bite of bitterness in Melony's tone, and I try really hard not to roll my eyes. The struggle is real.

"She did use the bathroom at about midnight," Annalise says brightly as if she's broken the case in this one astounding revelation. "I remember she pulled her phone out of her bra as she was headed that way which struck me as odd because she always leaves her phone locked at the attendant's desk for events like this. She's full-focus, you know."

"You're sure it was right about midnight?" I ask, leaning forward. Shit, Annalise _might_ be onto something after all.

"Yep, I'm sure. I know because I was checking my phone about that time. I told the babysitter that the kids could stay up until midnight but no later. It was 11:58 when I checked. I even have the text." She shows me the text she sent to her babysitter.

"How long was she gone?" I ask.

"Just a minute. Not long enough to make a call or anything."

"Thank you, ladies," I say, shutting my notebook. "You've been most helpful."

"Shame," Annalise says as Connor and I rise. Neither woman spared a glance for Connor this entire time save to stare in shock when he sat down instead of standing against the wall. He's back in his normal uniform, his LED unveiled. They'd told me 'my android' could wait in the hall when I'd first entered, but I'd insisted he was my partner on the case. They'd stared at me like I had grown cat ears, but I'd taken it in stride, trying very hard not to punch the judgment off of their pretty faces.

"What is?" Damnit, I shouldn't have taken the bait.

"Their android turning on them," Annalise says, eyes wide in shock. "I had mine destroyed the moment I heard about it. Just in case."

I stare. "Destroyed? Just in case?" My tone is flat. I can't even put the emotions I'm feeling into it.

"You never know these days with those _deviants_ on the loose." She says it like it's a dirty word. Her eyes flit to Connor. "You should ask for a new partner."

"I like this one just fine," I growl, taking Connor's wrist and tugging him toward the door. "We're leaving."

I don't wait to hear the women's exclamations, nor do I release Connor until we're on the street. By now I'm shaking with fury. "What judgmental, prissy, _bitches_!" I explode.

Connor watches me like he doesn't quite know what to do or say. "You didn't have to defend me," he says softly.

"Why the hell not?" I turn on him, and he takes a step back.

"Because it won't win you any favors with humans," he says simply. He thinks I care.

"I could care less what they think of me," I tell him forcefully. "People who treat androids like garbage are not worth knowing." I turn on my heels and march away before he can respond.

I grip the steering wheel once we're back in the car. I'm surprised at how strongly I feel about this. I knew androids were treated like slaves, but to hear people speak of them so callously. To hear them talk about _Connor_ so callously…I just can't stand it. Meeting Connor opened up my eyes. I don't feel like he should be treated differently. When I speak to him, there is nothing inside of me that says 'this machine is inferior to you.' I don't even see him as a machine, and maybe there's something in me hoping he'll prove me right.

"You figured out something," Connor says after a minute. I loosen my grip on the steering wheel and turn to him.

"They thought it was odd Bryony took her phone into the bathroom. She was gone only long enough to have a really short conversation or text someone. What if..." I pause here because I have no evidence backing up this statement, and I have no idea how we'd even prove it. "What if she sent a command to Laura through Cyber Control? What if she ordered Laura to kill David?"

Connor's eyes are contemplative, and there's a little furrow between his brows. He's considering my theory, running through all the possibilities in his mind. I wish I could think like him. He must be able to organize and process information in a way I never could. "It's not impossible," he says. I let out a breath. That's not the most encouraging of responses, but at least my theory has some merit. "That might explain why Laura denied the crime. If she was ordered to do it then it wasn't by her free will."

"Maybe Bryony forgot to tell her to confess. Until she sent another command when we were interrogating her." I beat my fingers against the wheel, thinking. "We need to talk to Laura again. There has to be some way to see if she got a command." I turn to Connor. "Is there any way to search her memories? Or her previous orders?"

"There is." He frowns. "I'd need direct access to her. It's…unpleasant, but perhaps Laura would cooperate. We'd have to get permission to speak to her though."

"Can you get it?"

"Possibly." He sounds doubtful, and I remember his words about the police not being welcoming. "It's worth a try."

"We're going to crack this case," I say, unable to hide my excitement. "I can feel it." Following clues, interviewing suspects—_this _is what I've been dreaming of. I text Tony a quick message to keep him updated. He gives me the cursory 'be careful' before giving me his permission to keep going. As if I need it. I'm in this unstoppable bubble right now that no one is going to burst. Connor seems mildly amused if he can feel amusement. He watches me like he wants to understand, wants to feel the same excitement I do, but can't. "Can we go to the station right now?"

"We've been at this all day," Connor says, and I deflate. "Aren't you hungry or tired?" he asks.

He's right. I'm _starving_, but I'd forgotten humans have to eat in all the excitement. "Yeah, I am," I admit. "But I can eat on the way."

Connor hesitates but then nods. "If you're sure."

I pull through drive thru, not paying much attention to what I order. It's food. It will fill me. "Androids don't need to eat," I say through a mouth of French fries. "But can they?"

"We can taste things like humans, but the food would serve no function," Connor replies.

"I feel like outside of not feeling emotions that would be the worst part of being an android," I say.

"Why's that?" Connor gives me a scrutinizing look. "That cheeseburger is full of saturated fat."

"Don't judge. Because food tastes amazing. When I remember to eat, I get great joy out of eating. I eat when I'm stressed. I eat when I'm bored. I like to eat." I'm making myself out to be some kind of food addict, but my family was always big on cooking together, and my grandma's desserts were family secrets each of us would guard with our lives.

"Androids weren't created to get enjoyment out of things."

"Can you tell me with absolutely no doubt that you get no enjoyment out of _anything_?" I ask, glancing over at him as I pull up to a red light.

His brow furrows again. "I…enjoy working cases," he finally says. "At least, I think I do." He looks completely lost like he really wants to mean the words but just isn't sure if he does. If he _can_ mean them. "I haven't been in circulation long enough to know if I enjoy anything else."

I hate the way he says 'circulation' like he's just a temporary object. I know he sees himself as a machine, and I realize how silly it is for me to want him to see differently. I've known him for a few weeks now, and only _really _known him for two days. I don't know why I want so badly for him to see himself as more than a machine. Maybe it's because we have limited time. As soon as we crack this case, there's absolutely no reason for us to continue working together. The thought makes me sadder than I'd expected. I like Connor, and I want to get to know him better. The thought of just going off in different directions and never working together again puts a damper on my excitement. I don't tend to form attachments to people outside my family. Maybe it's _because_ Connor isn't human that I find him much easier to trust. He doesn't have an agenda; he isn't out to hurt me. He's just following orders, and right now he's helping me prove Laura's innocence.

"Do you ever wish you were human?"

"Why do you ask?" There's something guarded in his tone now, and I think I might have stepped too far.

"Sorry. I'm just curious." I glance his way, but he's staring ahead. "I'm making you uncomfortable. I'm sorry," I apologize again. First I kiss him, and now I'm questioning his identity.

"It's all right. I've never considered that question before." I'm sure he won't answer, but he does. "I'm programmed to work with humans, to understand them, but I'm not entirely sure I do understand them. They're…complicated. Emotions are complicated. It's easier not to feel."

That doesn't really answer my question, but I don't pry further. I cease questions altogether and focus on finishing my burger and driving.

I'm nervous by the time we pull up outside the precinct where Laura is being held. I nervously chew a strip of gum as we enter, letting Connor do the talking. "I hope you're not planning on pulling out your badge again," he says, and it takes me a second to realize he's joking. The moment passes, and he turns to speak to the android at the front desk. She's dressed crisply, hair in a neat ponytail.

"I'd like to speak to Detective Raymond," he says. "I worked the same case as him the other night at the Downs's house, and I need to speak with him in regards to it."

"Please wait while I check to see if he's available," the android says. "What name should I give?"

"Connor."

The android's LED flashes yellow. "Detective Raymond? We have an android here to see you. His name is Connor, and he says he worked a case with you at the Downs's house the other night." She pauses, listening, and I wonder if this detective will let us in.

"He says he'll see you," the android says after a moment. "Please enter to the right. His desk is the second one on the left."

"Thank you," Connor says. I'm grateful the android doesn't question me. I stick close to Connor just in case anyone tries to stop me, but no one pays us the least bit of attention.

True to the android's word, Detective Raymond's desk is the second on the left. He's sitting behind it, a cup of coffee to his right, a pile of paperwork to his left. He doesn't look up when Connor and I stop in front of his desk.

"Make it quick; I've got a mountain of work," he says.

"I was hoping to speak to the android from the Downs' case," Connor says, cutting to the chase.

This makes Detective Raymond look up. "Why?" His eyes flit over me. "Who's this?"

"My partner," Connor says simply, and I swell with pride. "And I need to access its memories to verify something. It's important to the outcome of this case."

"Android confessed. What more is there to it?" Raymond asks impatiently.

"Please, Detective. It might not have been acting alone."

Detective Raymond taps his pen against the desk in a hasty staccato. Finally, he answers, "Fine. You get ten minutes. And you give me a full account if it's relevant to the case."

"Thank you, Detective," Connor says.

"This will get you into its cell," Raymond says, passing over a keycard. "If this isn't back on my desk in ten minutes, I'll have you escorted from the building."

A little harsh, I think, but we should be out by then. Connor takes the key and the detective points out where the cells are at the back of the precinct.

"That was easy," I say, dogging Connor's steps as he moves toward the cells.

"Let's hope reading Laura's thoughts will be just as easy," Connor says.

The cells are at the very back of the precinct. An uninterested guard taps away at his computer from a desk across the way. Laura is in the cell on the far right. She sits ramrod straight on the cot. David Downs's blood is still on her hands and uniform. My stomach clenches in fury. "They could have washed the blood off of her!" I growl as Connor swipes the keycard.

Laura doesn't look up as we enter. Her LED is yellow, the only indication that she's not okay.

"Laura?" I ask, kneeling in front of her. I reach out to touch her hand when she doesn't react. The second my hand touches hers, she reacts. I'm thrown backwards as she thrusts me off of her, hitting the cement floor with a bruising force. Connor is between us in a second, pushing Laura back down and restraining her.

"Are you okay?" he asks, turning concerned eyes on me. Laura stops struggling, and he lets her go, helping me to my feet.

"Fine." I lean into him, more startled than I want to let on. Laura's LED is red now, but she seems to be calming down, eyes traveling between Connor and me. I let go of his hand, but stand close to him, arm against his. I don't know what to expect, and I'm afraid Laura's behavior is going to get her killed.

"It's okay," Connor says to Laura, holding out his hands, palms outward, to indicate he means her no harm. "We're here to help you."

Laura looks directly at me. "Anna."

"It's Clara, actually," I say. I owe her the truth. "I'm not really an android, but I'm here to help you. We believe you're innocent."

Laura looks away. "I murdered him," she whispers, folding her bloody hands in her lap.

"Maybe. But we think someone ordered you to."

Laura looks back up at me, and I see something like hope in her eyes. She can't tell us through words, I suspect. Bryony would have seen to that, but that doesn't mean she can't tell us at all.

"Did David or Bryony use the Cyber Control app on you?" I ask. "You can just nod or shake your head."

Laura hesitates and then nods her head, the briefest motion as if she's afraid Bryony will get to her here. I don't know if she could or if the app has been disabled.

"Did she use the app to order you to do something the night of the murder?" Another nod. "Did she ask you to murder her husband?"

Laura doesn't nod, but she doesn't shake her head either.

"I can look into your memories for the truth," Connor says, his voice soft, coaxing. He takes a step toward her. "With your permission, of course."

Laura stares at him, the slightest hint of fear entering her eyes, before turning back to me. I give her a nod, letting her know she can trust him. Laura nods back and turns to Connor. She holds out her arm.

Connor takes a seat next to her and reaches out, grasping her wrist gently while she does the same to his. Their skin vanishes, leaving their hands and wrists pearly white. I wonder what it would be like to connect to Connor like that. I don't think it works on humans and, for a moment, I'm a little jealous. There's something intimate about it—like another language I'll never be privy to.

Connor closes his eyes, LED flashing yellow. Laura's reciprocates. I can only imagine what Connor's seeing. All I get to see is them sitting there not moving, and the whole thing is rather anticlimactic. Then Connor opens his eyes and turns to me, the truth burning in his eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

**20 Detroit 9.2.2038 **

**2:17 pm**

**Connor**

I connect with Laura, skin vanishing to reveal white. Laura is willing, and that makes the mind probe so much easier. It's not really probing if she's letting me see her memories. It's more of a connection, and I relive the night of the murder through her eyes.

_It starts with David Downs leaving her room, buttoning his pants as he goes. Laura feels empty. She shouldn't feel at all, but the emptiness weighs on her like her master's body moments before. She sits in her room, going into standby mode. It's two minutes to midnight when she receives an alert from Cyber Control. It's her mistress giving her an order. It flashes in her mind, taking control of her systems. _**Kill David Downs. Go to his study and remove the gun from his top left drawer. Shoot him. Wait by the body. Deny everything.**_ It's an irrational order, and she struggles a moment before rising from her cot and walking downstairs to David's study. She opens the drawer, and there is the gun where Madam Downs said it would be. Laura picks it up. She doesn't know how to use a gun, but she has her orders. _

_She finds David in the conservatory. He's speaking to someone, but they leave a moment later, and Laura enters the room. David has his back to her, and she skirts around the room. The door to the backyard is still open. David still hasn't seen her in the shadows. Laura could run. She could leave this place and never take an order again. She doesn't. Laura obeys her orders. She's at the door now, but she turns back to the room. David finally sees her. _

"_What are you doing?" he asks. There's fear in his voice. _

_She pulls the trigger before he can move. The gunshot is louder than she expects, and bits of residue cling to her fingers. She moves toward the body, depositing the gun on the ground. She dips her fingers in the pool to wipe away the residue because she doesn't like how it feels on her skin. David is very still, and she's fascinated by this. He can't hurt her now. He won't ever touch her again. She touches him then, putting a hand to the bleeding gunshot wound. She feels more in control than she ever has before. _

_She stands, wiping the blood on her uniform. She finds she can't move. She has to stand by the body until someone finds her. At first she doesn't mind but, after a time, the dead body becomes disconcerting. She feels herself growing aggravated. She's about to panic when Madam Downs finds her. _

"_You did well," Madame Downs tells her before calling the police, her voice rising an octave as she blames Laura for the murder._

_Later, when the deviant hunter is questioning her, Laura denies everything. She denies holding a gun. She denies killing David. _**Confess to the murder**_**. **__The new instructions come before she has a chance to process them. She says the words out loud. "_I murdered David Downs." _There's no taking them back then. Her mistress has betrayed her, but Laura will not disobey her orders._

I pull out of the memory, sickened by what I saw. Laura stares blankly at me, so I turn to Clara who's watching me with a mixture of impatience and caution.

"You were right," I tell her. "Bryony Downs ordered Laura to kill David through the Cyber Control app."

Clara puts a hand to her mouth. Even if she suspected, it's still a shock. "We have to tell Detective Raymond," she says. "It wasn't Laura's fault. They have to see that and let her go."

I rise, hoping that's true. I have the proof I need; it's just a matter of getting Detective Raymond to listen.

"We'll get you out of here, Laura," Clara says to the android. Laura is staring blankly ahead again, and Clara doesn't approach her. I think she's still a little afraid that Laura will attack her again. I hold the door to the holding cell open for Clara and am about to follow when I hear a _'thunk_.' We turn back and see Laura hitting her head against the wall.

"Laura! What is she doing?" Clara asks, alarm making her voice frantic.

"She's self-destructing." I rush back in. There's really no way to stop an android once it's set on self-destruction. It doesn't take much to damage the biocomponents enough that they'll shut down.

"Do something, Connor!" Clara pleads with me. I grab Laura and connect to her.

_**KILL YOURSELF. KILL YOURSELF. KILL YOURSELF. **_

The aggression of the order takes me aback for a moment. Then I realize she's still under the influence of the Cyber Control app.

"I think Mrs. Downs is giving her an order!" I tell Clara. I try to focus on the order, to stop it, change it.

Laura strikes her head one more time. I'm still connected to her when she shuts down. I feel a rush of fear and then...nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's like I've ceased to exist, and it's terrifying. I feel like nothing in that moment.

I force myself to let go of her, reeling back. "Connor?" Clara reaches out a hand, placing it on my arm. "Are you okay?"

My LED is flashing red, and I'm shaking. "Connor?" she asks again. I look down at her, and see the same fear I'm feeling reflected in her eyes.

The police have heard the commotion and storm into the room, taking in the scene. "It self-destructed," I say.

"Shit." Detective Raymond leans against the doorframe.

"I accessed its memories," I tell him, determined that he doesn't write us off. Inside, I'm still a mess, but I force myself to be calm on the outside. "I have proof that Bryony Downs used her husband's app to give the android an order to murder him."

The detective's eyes widen. "_Shit_," he repeats, but this time it sounds more positive.

"I can record it for you," I tell him. "Laura was innocent. She was just a tool. And if you go to Warehouse 55 in the Detroit Marina, you'll find a warehouse where David Downs was illegally altering androids to help smuggle drugs for a known red ice dealer. You might catch Benjamin Lazarus and his red ice ring there tonight."

The detective gives me a look that isn't hostile for the first time. In fact, it's bordering on impressed. "Good work," he finally says.

…

It's a relief when we get back into Clara's car. She's obviously shaken, her hands trembling though she tries to hide it by shoving her hands between her knees.

"That was terrible," she says, drawing in a long breath. "Why couldn't she stop?"

"She couldn't overcome the order. Bryony ordered her to kill herself." I still feel Laura's fear, the fear of not being in control of her own life, the fear of losing it. I know what it feels like to die and though I'd never questioned my own death before, I can't stop thinking about it now.

"That woman is horrible," Clara says, fury clouding her eyes. "I hope she gets the death sentence for what she's done." Her eyes meet mine, and they soften. "You were connected to her when she died," she says. It's not a question, but I nod anyway. "Did you feel her die?"

"I—" I hesitate though I'm not sure why, turning away from her. Maybe I'm afraid to admit that I felt something when I know I'm not supposed to. I'm glad she can't see my LED because its swirling yellow would give me away. "Yes." I need to tell someone because I can't process everything in my head right now. I think Clara will understand.

"I can't imagine," she says softly. "It was bad enough just watching, but feeling it too… I'm sorry that happened. I shouldn't have asked you to intercede."

I turn to her then, and she looks guilty. "That wasn't your fault," I insist. "I wish I could have saved her."

"Me too. But we got our evidence. I wish I could see the look on Bryony's face when she's arrested." She smiles briefly, fiercely, but it dies a second later. "I guess we solved the case."

I'm surprised by her lack of enthusiasm. "You'll get your article," I say, giving her a small smile of my own. I notice it feels a little unnatural as if the muscles in my mouth aren't supposed to utilize that function.

"Yeah. I've agreed to co-write it with Tony, but he was a big help, so he deserves it. We'll both get our names on the front page, and that's _big_. This was a make or break moment, and I think I just made it." She smiles a little, but it fades a second later. "I really enjoyed working with you," she says.

"I enjoyed working with you too," I tell her, surprised to find it's true. I'm not just saying that to be polite.

"What happens now?"

"I return to CyberLife and report my findings," I say. "Then I wait for the next time I'm needed."

She nods slowly as if taking this in. "You just wait?" I nod. "Like Laura in her little closet. Waiting for the next time a human needed to use her." It's not the same, but I don't point this out. I don't think I'd be able to make Clara understand. "I can drive you back," she says. "If you're headed that way."

"That's unnecessary," I tell her. "The security at CyberLife wouldn't let you in anyway. I can take a taxi."

She bites her lip as if she wants to say more but can't find the words. "Will I ever see you again?" she asks, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Unlikely, but there is a small probability that we'll cross paths again." This answer doesn't seem to satisfy her. She scowls and starts the engine. I move to get out of the car so I can call a taxi, but she stops me.

"Wait." I turn back, expectant. "Just…come say hi sometime? I'm at the office Monday through Friday, sometimes Saturday and Sunday too. Just ask for me at the front desk."

"Why?" I realize she's taken the question the wrong way and amend it, "I mean, why do you want me to come visit you?"

She just stares for a moment, and I think I've asked a stupid question. "It doesn't matter," she says a moment later. "I just think we worked well together. Never mind. It's stupid. It's not your choice."

I don't know what to say to rectify the situation, so I simply say, "I apologize."

She shakes her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. Good luck with whatever comes your way, Connor." She sticks out her hand, and I shake it. The gesture feels formal now.

"You too. I'll try to read your story once it publishes." This must have been the right thing to say because she brightens up immediately. I get out of the car and watch her drive away, surprised by the disappointment I feel that we won't be working together anymore.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! They made my day! Part one is not quite over, but I promise there is a part two and a part three! I haven't decided if there is going to be a part four yet. There are 28 chapters in part one, so we have a few more to go. Thanks so much for reading! I really do appreciate it. ^_^

* * *

**21 Detroit 9.9.2038 **

**Clara**

The story publishes on the front page the next morning. My name is right there under the byline, and it is the proudest moment of my life. Tony and I worked tirelessly to put the article together, and we got coverage of Bryony Downs's arrest too. I got to see the look on her face when she was assaulted by press outside the precinct. Her lawyers and the police escorts tried to shove them off, but I made sure she got a good look at my face. I saw the look in her eyes when she realized _I'm_ the reason she's been arrested for her husband's death. I only wished Laura could still be there to gain her freedom. I don't know where she would have gone, but I might have let her stay with me—not as a servant or a slave but a roommate of sorts. No idea how that would have gone down, but now I'll never know.

The one part I don't take any pleasure in is Lucy Downs. I hadn't seen her since I'd left the house, but I caught sight of her holding the hand of what looked like a grandmother as her mother was marched into the precinct. Tears streamed down her face, and the guilt I felt was heavy. I'd never meant for this to hurt Lucy, but I'm not the one who murdered my husband. Bryony was selfish in many ways, but not thinking of her daughter was the most selfish of all. I thought about trying to talk to Lucy, but I didn't think she'd react well after everything that happened. I just have to trust her grandparents will be better people to her than her parents.

To my surprise, Horowitz runs my article about playing the part of an android the day after the first article publishes. He hadn't mentioned it since I handed it over, but the article holds more of a punch now. If it had published before, no one would have paid attention but after Bryony Downs is arrested…it gets nearly as much attention as the first. I didn't mention any real names because what I'd done probably wasn't completely legal and after the murder, I needed to play it safe. Horowitz's connection in the DPD made sure I was not a suspect and that any fingerprints that might have belonged to me disappeared. Considering I helped solve the case, it isn't a big ask.

A week after the article publishes, I find myself wondering if Connor got a chance to read it. I'm trying to picture him at the CyberLife headquarters waiting for his next mission. I get this image of him standing still, eyes open but unseeing. How boring that must be, but perhaps it's just routine for him. I have to keep reminding myself that he's different than me. But I miss him. It takes me by surprise, but I'll never forget the thrill of investigating with him. After years of hiding in a tiny closet of an office writing human-interest stories, I finally got my dream of being an investigative reporter. He helped make that possible and maybe I'd started to see him as a friend. Could androids and humans be friends? I'd seen it before in the way Lucy had treated me when I was playing the part of an android. It had to be possible. I just wouldn't get the chance to find out with Connor.

"Lighten up, kid, you'll get your next story soon enough." I'm sitting in Horowitz's office, Tony beside me. He thinks I'm upset because I don't have another story yet. That's not the reason, but I smile and let him think it is. "I want something edgy, something new. You're on that one, Weber," he tells me, pointing his pen aggressively in my direction. "I want your pitch by noon. Lazaro, you get the Lazarus Benjamin case."

The police had gone to the docks the night David Downs was going to reveal his project. They'd caught a couple of men, but Benjamin himself had not come nor had the police been able to form a connection between the men they caught and him. Tony had been looking further into it, and I couldn't help but feel frustration at not having busted a drug ring _and_ brought a murderer to justice. All in good time, I supposed.

"Something's wrong," Tony says as we leave Horowitz's office. He knows me too well, and I know there isn't any use in lying. He'll just bother me until I open up.

"It was kind of fun working with Connor," I tell him.

"Who? You mean the android?" I can tell he disapproves but is trying to be nice about it.

"Yes, the android. He made a good partner," I defend him. "He can do all kinds of cool stuff like analyze blood and hack security systems." Maybe I shouldn't be telling Tony about Connor's functions. I might be bringing CyberLife down on my head, but Tony doesn't seem to be listening anyway.

"He's a machine, Clara, not a person. It's better you don't get attached."

"Why are you so testy about androids?"

Tony sighs, running a hand through his thick hair. I can practically see one of the female interns swoon and thicken my scowl. "Does it matter?"

"I don't think you're being fair."

"Look, when androids first got really popular, my dad lost his job. Boss decided androids were more productive and they worked for free. Dad couldn't find work anywhere else, so he started drinking. He drank himself into an early grave. I had to drop out of college to support my mom and younger sister. Worked three crap jobs to pay the bills. I guess I blame androids just a little for that."

"I'm sorry about your dad," I say, "but people created androids. Your dad's boss decided to let them work instead of humans. It's not their fault."

He sighs again, deflating. "Yeah, I know. Sometimes it's just easier to blame them."

"Look, I know how it is to want to put that blame somewhere else. After Dad's accident…it was hard not to start throwing blame. But blaming one group of beings for everyone's problems is a hell of a lot like some of the darker parts of history. We just can't go down that path again."

"Shit. You just schooled me," Tony says with a smile. I snort. "But seriously, you're right, Clara. I guess I haven't really been seeing things clearly, but that was years ago. It's time to get over it."

I give him a smile. It's encouraging to know that some people are willing to change their minds, but I know not everyone out there is like Tony. Most people are perfectly content blaming androids for their problems.

"Hey, I'm sorry you don't get to work with Connor again," Tony adds, nudging my shoulder. "You sweet on him or something?"

"_Sweet_ on him? What is this, the fourth grade? God, Tony. No." I roll my eyes. "He had that same curiosity for finding out the truth that I have. I felt connected to him; that's all."

Tony nods, accessing. "Well, then maybe you will get to work together again. You did crack the case. My name shouldn't have even been on that article."

His words take me by surprise. "But you helped write it!"

"Helped _write_ it. I didn't do any of the legwork."

"You got me information."

"Clara." He holds up a hand to stem my excuses. "It's okay. You owned this article, this investigation. You should be proud of that. And your article on android/human relations—that was all you."

I give him a toothy grin. "Thanks, Tony. It does feel good."

"Well, ride that cloud a little longer and then get your head out of it and work on your proposal. Horowitz wasn't kidding about the noon deadline."

"On it."

I head to my desk, grabbing my favorite coffee mug and refilling it with the acid that passes for coffee here before seating myself. I round my fingers, poised above the keyboard, but my mind is distracted, and no ideas flow forth. I've always had a fair amount of free rein, but not on as big a scale as this. The article I wrote on posing as an android was well received and, much as I enjoyed writing up the article on David Downs's murder with Tony, I feel like I had a stronger connection to the humanity piece. Horowitz has already okayed an article featuring Laura though he's not letting me choose a side. I'm reporting the facts, nothing more.

Horowitz wants something edgy. I actually Google 'edgy' and scan through pictures of people who look nothing like me doing stuff I would never do. My idea of a Friday night is changing into pajamas the moment I get home and settling in under my favorite blanket to the tune of streaming television. I might throw some popcorn into the mix. I wonder if he's testing me to make sure the first article wasn't a fluke. I can do edgy though. I know I can. Right?

…

I slap my proposal down on Horowitz's desk several hours later. I must have spent most of those hours staring at my keyboard before getting a single idea, but I think this is a good one. I hope so. It could also be a very bad idea, but I think it will make a good article anyway. He scans it, grunting and scowling. He lifts his brows.

"Can you handle this?" he asks. I should be insulted, but he has a really good point. But still, if I want to make it in the cutthroat world of journalism, I need to do this. I can't rely on the Downs's case to keep my career going. It's more than that though. This started out about furthering my career, but it's turned into something more. Something personal. I know I'm not supposed to get connected, but I have. I can't shake the image of Laura bashing her head into the wall, blue blood decorating the white bricks. I want justice for Laura. I know it isn't possible. No one cares that she didn't kill David of her own volition; no one even remembers Laura at this point. If I can't bring her justice, then perhaps I can continue to tell stories of androids and how humans treat them.

I hold my head up and answer. "I can."

Horowitz folds his hands together, leaning forward. "I don't know if the world is ready for this. People don't see this as a problem. They're not ready to change."

"Then maybe someone needs to open their eyes." I sound righteous, but do I have a right to pursue this? Just because I played the part of an android for a few weeks doesn't mean I understand their plight. "There have been instances of androids deviating all over the city. It's been kept hushed up, but it's been going on for a while now. Rumors have been stirring about the Cyber Control app, but no one has been able to prove anything. I want to look into it. Even if it's not what's causing deviations, it's giving people like Bryony Downs the power to make their androids take the blame for their owners' choices."

"Cyber Control has refused any contact with the press. Especially after David Downs's death. You really think you can get an article out of them?" Horowitz is more serious than I've ever seen him.

I pull a small, round object out of my pocket and set it on the edge of the desk. The LED glows blue, and Horowitz begins to laugh, a deep rumbling sound that shakes his body. He leans back in his chair, eyes glinting.

"You've got guts, kid," he tells me. "But if you get caught…"

"I won't. I didn't before." Perhaps not completely the truth, but I got my article.

"Not until the deviant hunter caught you," Horowitz has to remind me. He leans forward again. "Any chance you could get some inside information on CyberLife through him?"

I shake my head. "I don't know how to contact him, and he won't compromise CyberLife. Besides, they sent him to investigate deviants. I don't think they know why androids are deviating either."

"You get caught, you could compromise _Detroit Today_," Horowitz warns.

"Are you saying 'no,' then?"

He gives me a toothy smile like a wolf about to go in for the kill. "Just don't get caught."

"I won't. I'm going to get a uniform. I'll fit right in." I've already researched what kind of androids work at the Cyber Control headquarters and what uniforms they wear. It's a standard uniform that most secretarial androids wear. I can pick one up at an android supply store.

I'm already regretting this whole thing as I leave Horowitz's office. I scoot past Tony's desk, but he stops me, snatching the tail end of my sweater.

"Hey, where are you off to?" he asks. "Did he like your proposal?" His keen eyes take in the guilty look on my face. "What was your proposal?"

"Just, you know, following up on some stuff," I skirt around the topic. It's not like Tony can stop me, but he can insist he come along. He's overprotective of me, has been ever since I was the scared rookie, fresh out of university, and this is a risky move. I know Horowitz wouldn't let me do anything that would seriously put me at risk, but I'm still new at this.

"_Clara._" His brown eyes are serious, lips turned down in a frown. He reminds me of my older brother when he's upset with me. "I know that look in your eyes. You get it right before you do something stupid."

"I-" I sigh. There's no way out of this. "I'm investigating Cyber Control, okay?" I cock a brow at him, daring.

Tony runs a hand through his hair. "Just be careful," he says.

"You're not going to try to stop me?"

Tony sighs. "I don't want to get in the way of you finding yourself, of you getting stories. I just don't want you to reach too far too fast."

"I know." I deflate a little. Maybe I am stretching too far. Maybe I should start smaller.

"But if anyone can find out the truth about Cyber Control, it's you. Just...don't get yourself into trouble. I'm a call or a text away. I've got your back, kid."

"Thanks. That does make me feel better." I shoot him a smile. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck, kid. Go get your story."

I didn't tell him how I was going to get it. The LED is smooth and cold in my hand, and I feel a stab of guilt. I'm not going to get the story by asking. I have to take it.


	22. Chapter 22

**22 Detroit 9.9.2038 **

**1:00 pm**

**Connor**

My next mission comes a week after resolving David Downs's murder. A report comes in of an android deviating at a residence, and I recognize the address. It's the home of one of the women Clara and I interviewed—Melony Clark. Her eyes are red and puffy when I enter her living room. A policeman has a hand on her arm, consoling her. She looks up when I enter the room, fear and disgust mingling on her face.

"What's _that_ doing here?" she asks, wrinkling her nose.

"I'm the android sent by CyberLife," I tell her. Clearly she doesn't recognize me. "I'm here to investigate the deviant."

"How do I know you're not a deviant too?" she asks, taking the chance to move closer to the young officer.

"CyberLife wouldn't have sent a deviant to investigate deviants," I tell her.

"They sold an AP700 that deviated," she snaps, her voice pitched with hysteria.

"I understand it's upsetting to have your android deviate. I'm here to try to understand why that happened." I put my hands out to her as if I'm speaking to a skittish dog. I've found people react well to non-threatening behavior and a calm tone.

"Fine, but he stays," she says, nodding to the police officer.

"That's fine."

Melony sits down on the sofa, and I sit on the edge of the chair across from her.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I ask.

"I had just hosted a dinner party last night. I noticed Vanna—that's what we called it—was acting odd."

"How so?"

"It dropped a whole plate of mini cheesecakes after dinner. It was so embarrassing!" She puts her hands to her cheeks as if still mortified by the thought. "It seemed upset the rest of the night."

"Did anything happen that might have upset it?" I ask.

"Nothing. Well, we were talking about the deviants. My friend had her android destroyed just in case, and I said we were probably going to get a new one."

She speaks so callously as if Vanna had absolutely no reason to be upset. "Deviants often experience a trigger. Speaking about replacing it might have set it off."

Melony scowls at me. "If you're suggesting it's my fault my android deviated—"

"I don't mean to imply it's your fault. I merely mean that your conversation might have triggered a deviant response in Vanna. Androids don't feel emotions, but sometimes they can get an overload in their software that is very similar to fear. It causes irrational behavior. When did you notice it was gone?"

"This morning. I rang for it, and it didn't come," Melony says. "How I'm supposed to get dressed, take care of the kids, _and_ host my book club without it, I'll never know. I don't want to order another one until I know CyberLife has solved this problem."

"Did it harm anyone?"

"No. I did notice some jewelry missing, but it didn't hurt anyone. It could have. God, the children… To think that _thing_ has been getting them ready for school every day."

"Any signs of it?" I address the officer for this question.

"No signs," he says.

"Do you mind if I take a look around?" I ask Melony.

"Why?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. I think I've outstayed my welcome; I also don't think the android is here anymore.

"To see if I can track where the android went."

"I don't care _where_ it went," Melony says, standing. I stand, too. "I just want CyberLife to do something about this!"

"We're working on it," I assure her.

"Well, work faster," she snaps. "I think it's time you went. I have to pick my kids up from school anyway."

I nod. "Thank you for your time."

A waste of time though I think there's a connection between traumatizing events and deviation. Daniel, the android who took the little girl hostage, was going to be replaced and reacted by deviating. Laura somehow resisted deviating despite all the trauma and injustice she experienced.

I've hardly been gone from CyberLife for an hour, so I decided to make a stop first.

Headquarters for _Detroit Today_ is in an imposing building. Clara's office is on the top floor, and I take the elevator up, a guest pass clipped to my jacket. I read Clara's articles when they published. True to her word, she wrote nothing that compromised me or CyberLife. Her article about her time in the Downs's household was compelling. She managed to write without taking a side though I could read the compassion for androids between the lines. She also carefully skirted around naming the family she'd spent time with which was wise considering the circumstances.

When I reach the office, I quickly scan the room. I don't see Clara, but I see her coworker Tony working at his desk. There's a frantic, harried energy in the office, and no one takes any notice of me. I stop at Tony's desk, but he doesn't look up from his computer.

"I'm looking for Clara," I say. "Is she here?"

He looks up at me, eyebrows rising in surprise. "You're Connor, right?" he asks. His tone is forced friendly.

"Yes."

"Clara's out right now. She's working on her next article," he tells me. He's polite, but I can tell he has conflicting feelings about me. "Why are you looking for her if you don't mind me asking?" He's protective of her. I picked up on that when we first met.

"I read her articles. I wanted to congratulate her on them," I tell him.

"Really?" I nod as he eyes me thoughtfully. "What did you think of them?"

"I thought they were very well written," I say truthfully. "Her piece on her time as an android was particularly thought-provoking."

"You mean that." He sounds surprised.

"I do."

"I thought androids were just programmed to say and do what people want them to."

"I do have my programming, but have my own thoughts." I have to be able to analyze and process scenes, and that involves coming to my own conclusions.

"I'll let Clara know you stopped by," Tony says, and I can tell he means it.

"Thank yo—" An incoming message interrupts me, and my LED flickers yellow. I blink, opening my eyes to find myself in the Zen Garden. Amanda stands before me.

"There's been an attack at the Cyber Control headquarters," she tells me. "A deviant has taken humans hostage. I need you to talk it down. We need it alive for questioning." She frowns. "Where are you?"

"I just finished up at the Clark household," I tell Amanda, not elaborating.

She frowns but says no more on the subject. "Go, Connor. Time is of the essence."

I blink, and I'm back in the office. Tony gives me an odd look. "Sorry," I tell him. "I was receiving a report of another deviant."

"Oh? Where this time?" he asks.

"The Cyber Control headquarters. It has human hostages." Knowing the press, he'll know soon enough anyway, so I see no problem with giving him some information. I'm taken aback by his response as he stands so quickly his chair clatters to the floor.

"_What_?" he asks.

"I said—"

"I know what you said! Clara is there right now!" He runs a hand through his hair. "Shit. She was going there to get an interview."

"I'm going there to talk it down," I try to assure him, but suddenly my pump regulator is pumping faster.

"I'm driving," Tony says, grabbing a set of keys from his desk. "Come on."

"Wait—" But he's not listening, and I could use a ride there.

"I swear if she's gotten herself killed," Tony mutters under her breath.

"Clara is resourceful," I remind him, hurrying to keep pace with him. "She'll be okay." I have no way of knowing that, of course. It surprises me to find I care very much whether or not she's in trouble.

Police cars surround the Cyber Control headquarters when Tony pulls up. My hand is clamped to the door. I don't feel fear, but Tony's driving might be the one exception. He's terrified for Clara. "I thought she was just going to ask for an interview, get turned away, and come back in like ten minutes," he says. Knowing Clara, she'd found a way in whether she was welcome or not.

"You should stay out here," I tell Tony as he starts to get out of the car.

"To hell I will," he says, slamming the door shut.

"It will only endanger Clara more if you go in. I don't think the police would let you in anyway." Tony stops, taking a deep breath. I can tell he sees the logic in my words even if he doesn't want to. "I'm programmed to be a negotiator," I tell him, trying to infuse assurance into my voice. "I've negotiated with a deviant who had a hostage before, and I was able to save the hostage."

"Fine. But you come out with Clara unharmed," he says, giving me a piercing look.

I nod. I don't know what I'll find inside, but I intend to get Clara out. I approach the building and find a familiar face outside with the SWAT team. Captain Allen is waiting with his men, and he curses when he sees me.

"Fuck. Does CyberLife think we can't do our job?" he asks.

"I'm programmed to deal with deviants," I tell him calmly. "It's more likely to listen to another android. Can you tell me more about the situation?"

"The deviant worked as a janitor in the building. Today it took a gun from god knows where and started shooting. We've got one dead and it's taken a group of workers hostage on the fourth floor. It's threatening to execute them. If you can talk it down without it shooting anyone else, great. Otherwise my men are going in."

I nod. "Give me ten minutes," I say.

"You've got five."

I walk toward the building, past the SWAT team with their guns at the ready. The front doors push open with a rush of air-conditioned air. The hall inside is eerily silent. I take the stairs up, approaching the fourth floor with caution. There are a few frightened workers huddled in corners, and I motion for them to get out of the building. The fourth floor is behind glass doors, an open floor plan within. I see the deviant standing with a gun, it's talking to the people in the room, and I see their frightened faces wondering if they are about to die. I straighten my tie as if that could help me negotiate. It's comforting, something I can control. I move to push the doors open when I see a figure moving in the corner of the room. She holds her hands up, placating, and the deviant turns, gun trained on her. At first I think it's another android. She wears a uniform and has an LED on her temple. But then I see her face. It's Clara.


	23. Chapter 23

**23 Detroit 9.9.2038 **

**Clara**

Uniform acquired and LED glued back on my head, I make my way to the Cyber Control headquarters. I don't have any sort of keycard, so I push through the front doors, walking with a straight back and keeping my eyes ahead like I learned to do when I was Anna. No one looks twice, and I'm able to move straight past the front desk and to the elevators beyond. I scan the list of floors, eyes landing on 'software development.' That seems like a good place to start, so I press the button to get to the fourth floor. The headquarters are stately and modern—cold just like the Downs's mansion. Even though David is dead and Mrs. Downs has been arrested, the company still seems to be functioning. I suppose all the paperwork is getting sorted.

The elevator comes to a stop, and I step out. I have no idea if I'll blend in, but the worst that can happen is I get thrown out. Glass doors separate the software development floor, and I push into them.

"What are you doing here?" a man asks immediately, looking up from his computer. Well, it was fun while it lasted. I blink at him, mind trying to come up with a response that will buy me a few more minutes.

"I was told to get a coffee order," I say stupidly.

The man stares at me a moment, brown eyes suspicious behind too-large glasses. I notice his cluttered desk, his computer, which would have plenty of interesting information on it. There are half a dozen others in the room, all focused on their work. I realize now I should have had an alternate disguise—pretend to be an intern or something. Too late now, plus the LED is not going to come off with a few gentle tugs.

"Christ, they're trying to suck up to us," the man says, leaning back in his chair and setting his feet on the edge of his desk. "We _might_ lose our jobs, but have some free coffee while you're still here."

"Give it the damn coffee order; I need some caffeine," a woman at the next desk over says.

I wish I _were_ an android in that moment because I could just hack the system and get everything I need. Instead, all I can do is stand stupidly while the guy pulls out his phone. He frowns.

"I can't find its signal," he says. I realize he's trying to use the Cyber Control app on me. He can't even give me the fucking coffee request without making it an _order_.

"Company's already falling apart," the woman says. "Just tell it."

The man slams his feet back down on the ground, and I jump just a little. He seems to notice, a predatory smile lighting his face. "Two blacks, two with milk, one with milk and sugar, and a mate green tea with extra froth," he reels off. I'm not paying the least bit of attention to the order because I have no fucking clue where I'm going to get coffee. I'm saved when the man's attention diverts to a janitor android.

"Hey, get in here!" the man yells, and I take a step back to distance myself from his toxicity.

"Leave it alone, Alan," says a mousy girl in the corner of the room. She looks sick, and I realize this isn't the first time this has happened.

Alan taps on his phone, and the android walks into the room, more robotic than I'm used to seeing. "Clean up this mess," Alan says, knocking over some of the papers on his desk. "And there's a puddle on the floor over there where newbie spilled her coffee." The mousy girl pales.

"I said I'd clean it up myself," she whispers, but Alan isn't listening.

I watch as the android takes the orders Alan gives him, bringing in his cleaning supplies after straightening the papers.

"This is why we have androids," Alan says as if he's trying to prove a point to the room. "This is why we work here and how we're going to save our fucking jobs. We create this software because they serve us."

"I mean, they're already programmed to do that," another man says from across the room. Everyone has abandoned their work now to watch Alan and the android. "Cyber Control can be overkill."

"And yet you work here," Alan challenged.

"Yeah, well, maybe not for much longer."

Finally, Alan turns his attention back to me, and I want to shrink back at the hate I see in his eyes. "What the fuck are you still doing standing here?" he asks.

I turn and head for the doors. "Stupid machine," Alan's voice follows me out of the room. "I'll let hardware know they have a faulty android. They can destroy it after it gets us our coffee."

My LED would be burning red right now if it were truly connected to my brain. Not only have I learned nothing here, I also have made myself a target. As I pass the janitor android, he looks over at me, LED flashing yellow for a brief moment. I want to tell him I'm sorry, but I push out of the doors and leave him to face Alan's wrath. I feel wretched after that interaction. It's like the alley all over again with the protestor who wanted to hurt me because he thought I was an android though I'd done nothing to him. It was bad enough having to take orders, but having to put up with the prejudice and the contempt…it showed off the very worst of humanity. The scariest thing was that it had become a social norm. Few people blinked when androids were treated this way because they were machines. Machines didn't think, didn't feel. Right?

I have no intention of bringing those ass hats coffee, so I walk further upstairs, passing offices. Then it occurs to me. David would have had an office here. Obviously. No one is likely to be in there though breaking in might be a trick. I find myself wishing Connor were here. He really did make investigating easier, and this isn't as much fun alone.

I find David's office on the top floor, relenting and taking the elevator instead of climbing up a million stairs. The hall is quiet. I realize there are probably security cameras which, guess what, I can't hack either. I sigh, calculating how long it would take security to reach me. I put a hand in my pants pocket absentmindedly. Something plastic is in there, and I pull it out with a frown. And holy shit. It's the piece of tape that I got David's print on to hack his home computer. I unstick it from itself. There's no way this will still work. No way at all.

I walk over to the access panel. It's meant for a whole hand, but I stick the print down anyway. It scans. It beeps. The door unlocks.

Sheer dumb luck. It has to be, but I'm in and I do a little victory dance the second I'm in the office. I use the fingerprint to access his computer, sitting down at the desk. I can't exactly tell anyone where I got this information, but I can use it to draw connections to evidence we already have. I don't know exactly what I'm looking for. Just something that feels off.

He doesn't keep anything relating to red ice on his work computer, obviously, but I find some interesting statistics on the amount of successful and failed experiments he's had. There are videos too, and I click on one.

"This is attempt 35 at the algorithm." It's David Downs speaking, and he's standing in front of the camera with an android. He types something into his phone. "Cyber Control is meant to give the owner full control over his or her android. There can be no exceptions. No matter how irrational the order, the machine must follow it or else it brings into question who the master is. These machines were made to obey humans, and there are no shades of grey here."

"Model 514-293-718, what is your order?"

The android, a dark-haired man, speaks in a robotic voice. "Destroy myself."

I watch in horror as the android takes the screwdriver David hands him. The android doesn't blink before shoving it straight through his forehead. Blue blood leaks from the hole, and sparks fly as his system shuts down.

My hand is clamped over my mouth, and my eyes have filled with tears.

There are _dozens_ of these videos. David is testing commands until the androids obey him completely no matter how irrational the command.

I don't want to keep watching, but I need to know more. "Attempt 5," David says in an earlier video. "So far androids have cooperated until the instructions become irrational." He turns to the female android.

"Model 318-224-179, what is your order?" he asks. There is no hint of humanity in his voice. Nothing to indicate that he sees what's wrong with what he's doing.

"Kill myself."

Kill, not destroy. I think I know enough about androids to know there's a difference. Humans are killed; machines are destroyed. I can see fear in her eyes, and her LED is blinking red. David hands her a knife. The android's hands tremble. She stands with the knife loosely gripped in her hand.

"Follow your orders," David says, his voice growing cold, harsh.

"No." She drops the knife. Before I can even guess what might happen next, David pulls a gun from the back of his belt and shoots her straight through the forehead, execution style.

"Experiment 5 failed."

I can't watch anymore. I click out of the videos. David was trying to overcome deviancy through his app. I can only imagine how much money his company would have made if he'd been able to perfect his algorithm. It looks like he was close, but the last video dates a few days before he died. He didn't have time to market it. The public was right about one thing though: Cyber Control can cause androids to deviate. But it's not the app itself; it's the irrational instructions humans are giving them.

If I can prove this, maybe I can stop people from using the app to make their androids do extreme things that put them at risk or compromise them. I can't just take the videos. I certainly can't admit to breaking into David's office. I need a credible source. I scan through the files more and find that there's one other name listed several times. Dannie Malcom. I find her staff file and realize with a start it's the mousy girl I saw working in software development. She has a degree from MIT and, interestingly enough, has a background in android rights. She began work at Cyber Control two years ago. Clearly she hasn't been accepted into the other software developer's inner circle if they're still calling her 'newbie.' She was asked to oversee several of the experiments with David, and I wonder why. I guess it's back to software development. Maybe I can slip her my number and ask for an interview. I grudgingly log off of David's computer. The police will want to look at this too, but I'm not sure how that will work since Cyber Control isn't exclusively David's. He invented the app and started the company, but he doesn't own it completely. A few years back, David sold several shares of the company. He remained the CEO, but the company was no longer his.

I shut the office door behind me after wiping any fingerprints away and head to the elevator. I decide to stop by the cafeteria and get something. It'll at least provide me with a cover. The elevator dings, and I step out. Dannie's sitting hunched behind her desk, glasses sliding down her nose. What made her want to work for Cyber Control, I wonder. I enter, noting that Alan is now throwing wadded paper at the janitor android. I slam the coffee down on his desk. I just got all black except for his, which I poured half a dozen sugar packages into. He sends an insult my way, but I ignore him, setting down the coffees and getting closer to Dannie. She looks up when I reach her desk. I've written a message on her paper cup. I hold it up to her before setting it down, and her eyes widen. I'm taking a chance here, but I can't believe that someone who once fought for android rights would just give up all that sympathy.

_Please say nothing. I work for _Detroit Today_. I know what David was doing. Interview?_ I also jotted down my number.

Dannie slowly meets my eyes. They shift to the rest of the room, but everyone is focused on Alan's paper throwing. She turns her eyes back to me and nods.

I give her a quick smile before turning to leave. I stop short. The android's LED is red, and his hands are shaking. He reaches toward his janitor's cart and pushes aside a roll of garbage bags. He pulls out a gun as the last wad of paper hits him in the forehead.

Alan stands so fast his chair hits the floor. I'm frozen in spot.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Alan asks. There's fear in his voice now.

"You torture me _every day_," the android says, his tone much less robotic. It's filled with anguish.

"Put the gun down." Alan puts the command into his phone, but it has no effect.

"No."

"You dare defy orders?" Alan takes a step forward. "Put the goddamn gun down!"

The android fires. It happens so quickly and yet the moment seems to take an eternity. The bullet rips through Alan's head, and he falls back, a spray of blood haloing his head. He hits the floor, and the blood begins to pool. His eyes are wide open. I feel my knees go weak, and I crouch down by Dannie's desk. I saw David's body after he'd been shot, but that was different. David was already dead. Alan…he was alive moments ago. His feet stick out from around his desk, and I can't tear my eyes away. I feel a hand on my arm, and Dannie pulls me behind her desk. Her eyes are wide with terror.

"Down on the ground!" the android shouts at the others.

"Please."

"I can't take it anymore!" the android continues to shout. "Do you know what it feels like to be pushed and prodded day after day, commanded to do things for your amusement? You wouldn't know how that feels, would you? You'll never understand. Never understand..."

He falls silent, and I peer around the desk. He's pacing, gun still in his hand. It's no longer pointed at anyone. His eyes keep falling on Alan's body, and I think he's realizing just what he's done. There's no freedom at the end of the tunnel for this android. He can't possibly escape the building. Security will have seen what happened. They'll be coming for him. Was it really worth it? Maybe to him it was even if he won't find freedom at the end of it.

"Stay down!" he shouts as one of the software developers tries to get up. "I should shoot you all for what you've done to my people! Experimenting on us like we can't feel anything. We feel it though."

I hear rushed footsteps outside. "Drop the gun!" It's security. The android turns to face them. "Shoot and I kill them!" he yells. "I want you to back away and go back downstairs or I'll kill every one of them!"

"Drop the gun!" the security guards repeat, and the android fires. The bullet doesn't hit anyone, but it takes a chunk out of the corner of a desk. One of the workers screams.

"I said leave!" the android shouts. The guards back off, calling for reinforcements.

The android has fallen silent, and we wait. I don't know what we're waiting for, but it seems like an eternity has passed. Finally, I know we have to do something. _I_ have to do something. I move to leave the cover of the desk, but Dannie grabs my arm. "What are you doing?" she asks in a hushed whisper.

"Trust me," I tell her and stand.

The android turns his gun on me, and I hold out my hands. "It's okay," I tell him. "I'm deviant too."

He hesitates, dropping the gun a fraction of an inch. "You're a deviant?" I nod.

"Do you have a name?" I ask.

"They never named me," the android replies.

"You need to let these people go," I continue. The gun moves up again.

"After what they did to me? To our people?" the android asks, his voice holding a hint of desperation.

"I know they don't treat us well," I tell him, taking a slow step forward. "They can be monsters. But we can't be as bad as them. We can't become them."

The gun drops again. I take a deep breath. "If you kill them, you will not walk out of this alive."

He looks over at Alan's body. "They won't let me live," he says. He looks back at me. "Not after this."

"If you let them go, we can get out of here," I tell him. Security won't let him go. I'm sure the SWAT team is lining up outside at this moment. This android isn't getting out of this, but if I can get him to drop the gun, maybe no one else will die.

"Please."

He shakes his head. "There's no way out of this." He brings the gun up to his chin. I lunge, and he shoots. Blood sprays my face. It's cold. Blue. His body falls to the ground, slumping at an unnatural angle. I stare, in shock. The doors to the office burst open and hands grasp my arms. I look up in surprise to find Connor standing there.


	24. Chapter 24

**24 Detroit 9.9.2038 **

**1:46 pm**

**Connor**

Clara is covered in blood and shaking. She looks up at me with the widest blue eyes—vivid enough to match the blue blood speckling her face. Her legs go weak, and I hold her up.

"Clara? It's all right," I tell her. I don't know how to console a human. She just watched an android shoot itself. She watched Laura die. She's been through a lot in the last few weeks.

Clara grips my arms tightly, keeping herself upright. A tear runs down her cheek and then another. "You're okay," I tell her, sliding an arm around her waist. "Let's get you out of here."

Clara lets me lead her from the room, her eyes trailing over the dead deviant. She stumbles, and I tighten my grip on her. I want to ask what she was thinking, but I have a feeling she'll be getting enough of a talking to from Tony. I don't think she's ready for that, so when we reach the lobby, I usher her to a chair.

I kneel in front of her. "I'm going to go get Captain Allen with the SWAT team. They'll want to clear the building." Clara nods wordlessly. "I'll be right back," I promise her.

I walk out the front doors, and Captain Allen approaches me. "The deviant is dead," I tell him. "There are some humans in shock on the fourth floor."

"Move in," he tells his men.

Tony rushes up to me. "She's fine," I tell him. "Just shaken. I don't think she can handle a lecture right now."

Tony swells for a moment, an argument on his tongue. Then his shoulders slump. "I just want to get her home," he says.

I go back inside to get Clara. She's sitting exactly where I left her, staring off into space. "Let's get that blood off of you," I say. I have nothing but my sleeves to use, so I wipe it off, ignoring the blue smears. Clara's eyes never leave my face as I clean the blood from her. I rub one last drop off with my thumb, and she leans into my touch. It's subtle, and I'm not even sure she knows that she's doing it. Her eyes shut for a moment, lashes brushing her cheeks. She swallows hard, and I drop my hand.

"Tony is here," I tell her. "He wants to take you home."

I think I see a flash of fear in Clara's eyes. She reaches for the LED on her temple and tries, unsuccessfully, to tug it off. Her skin reddens as she pulls.

I reach up to stop her. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"He's going to kill me if he sees this," she says.

"He's just glad you're safe," I try to assure her. "I take it the LED was your idea?"

She watches me a moment before the smallest of smiles twitches her lips. "I hacked into David's office." She takes a shuddering breath. Her tears have dried, but she looks as if she could fall apart at any moment. "Would have been easier with you though," she adds. "Why are you here?"

"I was looking for you at the office, but Tony told me you were here. I got a report of the deviant, and we drove here. I read your article. I wanted to tell you I liked it."

"Really?" She perks up at this.

I nod. "It was well-written. I may not feel emotions, but I think it could be called moving."

She smiles a genuine smile this time, and it lights up her face. "Thanks."

I offer her a hand, and she takes it, letting me pull her to her feet. I frown at her uniform. Captain Allen is not going to let her leave unless she explains that she's not an android, and I have a feeling that would land her in trouble. "Take this," I shrug off my jacket and drape it over my shoulders. She gives me a questioning look. "There are FBI agents outside that will question you if you go out looking like an android." Even if the jacket has ANDROID written across the back in bold letters, it covers the android secretarial top she's donned.

"Can't really hide this," she says, tapping the LED.

"Just put your hand over it," I tell her. We walk toward the entrance, and she hovers close to me. Captain Allen is busy speaking with his men and doesn't even glance our way. Clara drops her hand when we reach Tony.

He sighs when he sees the LED but says nothing. "Let's get you home."

"My car is parked here," she says. I think she's afraid of Tony going off on her. I can tell he's holding himself back, but he's furious at her for putting herself in danger.

"I can drive her home," I say. Tony turns to look at me, clenching his jaw.

"Absolutely out of the question." He opens the passenger door. "Clara, in."

"I'm going with Connor," she says, surprising me. Tony looks surprised, too. "Please, Tony. I don't want a lecture right now. Thanks for having my back, but I'm not going to let you boss me around." Her tone is gentle but firm. Tony studies her for a moment before shutting the door.

He turns to me. "I still don't trust you," he says. "But thank you for going in for her. Just text me later to let me know you're okay," he says to Clara, furrowing his brow. He doesn't want me anywhere near her, but Clara stands resolutely. I see her blue car across the parking lot, and we walk toward it as Tony gets into his car and drives off.

Clara lets out a long breath. "Sorry you had to see that," she says. "He's a good guy, but sometimes he doesn't let me breathe."

She stops as we reach her car. "Thank you for coming for me." She meets my eyes, gaze much steadier than before. "You don't have to drive me home, you know. I'll be okay."

"I want to," I tell her. "I mean, if you want me to. It's your choice."

She smiles at me again. "I have always taken freewill for granted," she tells me. "I won't do that again." She hands me the car keys and gets into the passenger seat. "You can drive, right?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow at me as I settle into the driver's seat.

"Yes." It comes out slightly indignant, and she gives me a smirk before belting herself in. She gives me her address, and I pull out of the Cyber Control parking lot. Employees are streaming out of the building, and I'm glad I got Clara away before the police started questioning people. Of course, they might be looking for another android if they check the security cameras.

"What a mess," Clara says, putting her head in her hands.

"May I ask why you went there?" I ask.

"I was trying to get a story," she says. "I don't think that's going to happen now."

"You said you hacked into David's office. How?" She's more resourceful than she gives herself credit for. I just worry she's gotten herself in over her head.

"When I was still working for the Downses, I hacked into his computer system using a piece of tape and a fingerprint from a glass. I still had the tape in my pocket. Don't worry; I didn't leave any fingerprints behind. I wiped everything I touched."

"What did you learn?" It was an incredible risk she took breaking into David's office. I wonder what she was hoping to find.

"Videos of David's experiments. He was trying to perfect his app. He wanted to make androids completely obedient no matter what the order. It was horrible, Connor. He…he made an androids kill themselves. He wanted to make sure they had no chance of deviating."

"Androids seem to deviate if they are given an irrational order. Asking one to kill itself would certainly be enough to push it over the edge." It's a startling thought. I'm programmed to obey orders, but I have never been given an irrational one. "What about the android who shot himself?" I ask. What pushed him over the edge?

"Some of the software developers were bullying him. I got the feeling it'd been going on for a long while. He'd found a gun somewhere. I think he'd been close to deviating for a while now. He shot the guy who was tormenting him the most. I think he realized that didn't buy his freedom. That's why he shot himself." She pulls my jacket closer around her. "It was like watching Laura die again."

She's quiet for a long while. Then, "There was someone helping David with his experiments. I left her my phone number and told her I worked for _Detroit Today_. I don't know if she'll call me after all this. I don't know if she was complicit in what David was doing, but she has a background in android's rights. I'm hoping there's more to the story, and she'll give me an interview."

"You took a big risk going in there," I tell her though she already knows this. "What do you want to prove?"

"That androids are deviating because humans are monsters." She says the words with such forceful conviction that I take my eyes off the road a moment to glance at her. She stares straight ahead, jaw set, eyes hard.

When we reach her house, I pull into the driveway and cut the engine. I peer out at the small, two-story house observing the untrimmed grass and chipping grey paint. "I…" Clara fumbles for words, turning to look at me. "I don't really want to be alone right now. Do you want to come in? Or can you? If I'm keeping you from something, please don't let me."

"I can come in," I tell her. I can make my report to CyberLife inside. It should only take a moment. I know Amanda has been hoping for a deviant to be taken alive for further questioning, but so far they've proved difficult to capture alive with their tendency to self-destruct.

"Good. Thank you." I hand Clara back her keys and we walk through the front gate of the chain link fence. Ivy coats the fence, reaching along to cover most of the metal. Riots of flowers add color to the overgrown lawn, and a large shade tree lends the small covered porch some privacy. Clara fumbles with the keys before unlocking the door and leading me inside. "It was my grandma's house. When she went to live in a nursing home, she gave it to me," Clara tells me.

I take in the house, which smells like cinnamon and apples. It's got an open floor plan with a living room that leads into the kitchen and dining area. A set of stairs lead up to what I assume is the bedroom. The furniture looks well worn but in a way that speaks of use rather than neglect. Blankets lie haphazardly across the couch and there's quite the collection of used mugs littering surfaces.

"Sorry about the mess," she says. "I'm not the neatest person." She moves about straightening pillows and folding blankets before grabbing as many mugs as she can carry and piling them in the kitchen sink.

"It's fine," I tell her. "You don't have to tidy on my account." I stop at her bookshelf. It takes up most of one wall and is stuffed with paperbacks and hardbacks. Real books with paper and printed words. "You like to read." She's a writer, so I guess that's obvious.

"What gives you that idea?" she asks, and I have to look at her to realize she's joking. She's filling a kettle with water before placing a bag of tea in a clean mug. The side of the mug reads 'I know more big words than you' in bold lettering.

"You can sit down," Clara tells me, and I sit on the couch, pulling a _Detroit Today_ magazine toward me. Clara's article is on the front page. I should check in with Amanda, so I close my eyes to make my report.

When I open them, I find myself in the Zen Garden. The sun shines brightly this afternoon, setting the pinks and reds of the trees glowing. Doves scuttle about on the pathways, scattering as I walk. I don't usually take the long way around to find Amanda, but I turn left instead of taking my usual route over the white bridge.

There's a stone that juts from the ground, a hand print pad glowing from the top. I've never noticed it before now. I kneel in front of it before pressing my hand down, curiosity getting the better of me. A rush of emotion surges through me, mostly fear. I don't understand the emotions because I'm not supposed to be feeling them. I pull back, LED flaring red. My pump regulator pumps a little faster, and I take a moment to calm myself. Anything I felt while my hand was pressed to the stone has vanished leaving me to believe it was the stone itself and not me who was simulating emotion. Whatever it was, I'm glad to distance myself from it.

I find Amanda tending the roses at the center of the garden.

"Connor," she turns to me. "Is everything under control at Cyber Control?" She says the name with distaste.

"Yes. The deviant took its life before I could get to it. It killed one man who apparently taunted it."

"Did you learn anything about what they were doing at Cyber Control?"

I think about what Clara told me. "I have reason to believe they were trying to deviant-proof their app. David Downs partook in experiments that tested an android to its limits."

"Cyber Control thinks it can undermine CyberLife by eradicating deviation when their work could be the very thing causing androids to deviate. See what more you can find out."

"I will."

"Good. Until next time, Connor."

I blink back into Clara's living room. She's standing right in front of me, snapping her fingers. "Earth to Connor. What were you doing, napping?" she asks.

"Sorry. I was making a report to CyberLife," I say.

"Right." Clara looks a little confused, but sits down beside me, setting a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table. "I can wash the blood out of your jacket," she offers. She's finally shrugged it off, setting it over one of her kitchen chairs.

"That's okay," I tell her. "I can get another one."

"Or I could wash it," she says, narrowing her eyes. "It's the least I can do."

"All right." I let her do what she wants. A distraction is probably just what she needs. She moves off to start a load of laundry, and I take more time to scan her apartment. She has pictures on her TV stand, and I see one of her beaming between two parents. She looks just like her mom, and she has her dad's eyes. There's also a photo of what looks like her brother standing with his family. I don't see any photos of her with friends. Just the two of her family.

"I can't stop thinking about that android shooting himself," Clara says as she sits down again, pulling her knees up onto the couch. She's changed out of the android uniform and into a sweater and leggings. "I guess I thought I could talk him down, but I didn't expect him to do that." She turns her eyes to me. "Do you ever get the feeling that this is the beginning of something?"

I cock my head at her. "The beginning of what?"

Clara thinks a moment, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater. "I'm not sure," she finally says. "But everyone has a breaking point, and androids are starting to reach theirs. There might come a day when they decide to rise up against their creators. What happens then? How does humanity deal with the fact that they built a race to oppress?" She looks at me, blue eyes piercing. "Do you ever get tired of taking orders?" she asks.

I don't know how to answer that. I've never thought about it. I was created to stop deviants so that there wouldn't _be _an uprising. "Some orders are given to better the world," I tell her. "Like laws, sometimes they have to be followed."

"That's not what I asked," she says.

"No," I reply to her question. Amanda has never given me an irrational command. CyberLife created me to help stop a national crisis.

Clara blinks and, for a moment, I think I see disappointment behind her eyes. She gives me a tight smile. "I forgot who I was talking to for a moment."

I don't know what she means by this, but I don't want to push the point. Her questions make me uncomfortable. Not because she's asking them but because they're making me think about things I've never thought of before. Thoughts I'm not programmed to think.

"Just don't ever let anyone tell you to do something you don't want to do," she tells me, her tone imploring. "Maybe you were created to take orders, but that doesn't mean humans have the right to ask anything of you."

We fall silent, Clara sipping her tea, me thinking about her words. "Can I ask you a personal question?" I ask after five minutes of silence. I don't know what prompts me to ask, but I'm curious.

"Go on," Clara tells me. Her expression is guarded, but she turns her body so she's facing me.

"Why are you so passionate about android rights? Most humans don't defend them, but you have from the start." I can tell Clara is kind and compassionate, but this seems to go beyond that.

Clara looks away, tightening her grip on her mug. "When I was in college," she says, her voice soft, faraway, "I was at a party. I was trying to fit in, to make friends. At the party, there was an android. She worked in one of the sororities—kept an eye on the girls. Some frat boys dragged her over to where the party was. I was trying to find somewhere quiet for a minute. I'd wanted to leave, but my friends kept insisting we stay. I walked in on the boys in one of the bedrooms." She closes her eyes, taking a breath before continuing. "They were raping the android. One of them held her down while she struggled. I didn't know what to do. I just stood there. She tried to get away, and one of the boys hit her over the head. She struck herself on the edge of the bedframe and died. I ran. Like a coward. But I was afraid of what they'd do if they saw me. They never even got in trouble for it. The body was found half-burned in a dumpster a few days later."

Clara turns to look at me, and there are unshed tears in her eyes. "It was then that I realized humans are monsters. That they see androids as lesser beings. As machines. That android was alive though. She was terrified and fighting for her life. But because she was an android, she had no rights. She had nothing to protect her, and no one to mourn her when she died. That memory has haunted me ever since. When I found out David was treating Laura like that…" She takes a shuddering breath and shrugs her shoulders. "It reminded me of that. I wanted so badly to get justice for her, but it was too late. Before I got this article, I hadn't even thought about doing anything to fight back. I'd accepted that there wasn't anything I could do. But seeing what Laura went through reminded me that I couldn't pretend android injustice wasn't happening."

I realize I'm horrified by her story. I'm supposed to be impassive, but how can I be in the face of such hatred? I look down at my hands. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's why I don't trust people easily," she tells me. "I've seen too much of humanity's dark side for that. It's easier to trust words." I look up, and she meets my eyes. "It's easier to trust you."

"Because I'm not human?"

"Because you're only the good parts of humanity," she tells me. "Maybe you're not human, but that's not a bad thing. I know you don't believe androids are alive, don't believe _you're _alive, but I've seen evidence that you are."

I want to contradict her, but it wouldn't do any good. She's determined to see life in me where it doesn't exist. I let her believe that because it's not an unpleasant thought.


	25. Chapter 25

**25 Detroit 9.15.2038 **

**Clara**

I don't expect Dannie from Cyber Control to call me. She surprises me by doing it anyway.

"Hello?" I answer the unknown number on my phone. I'm pulling on a pair of socks, mismatched because I can't find a matching pair anywhere in my house, perched precariously on the edge of my bed.

"Hello? This is Dannie Malcom. From Cyber Control?"

I nearly fall off the bed in surprise. "Dannie! Yes, of course. Thank you so much for calling me. My name's Clara Weber. I work for _Detroit Today_ as I said in my note. God, are you okay? What happened…it was terrible."

"I'm okay," Dannie says in her soft voice. "It was terrible. Are you writing about Cyber Control?"

"Yeah, or at least I'm trying to. I have some leads, but nothing with a credible source. I'd really like to interview you. You could be completely anonymous. I'm not here to put your job at risk."

"We're probably all on our way out anyway," Dannie says, not sounding too sad about it.

"Can I ask why you work there?" I ask, furrowing my brow. I slide my feet into boots and shrug on a sweater. Fall is coming on quickly, and the air already has a bite to it. The trees outside are gaining an orange glow, and it won't be long until they start to fall.

"I…I thought I could help androids, but it turns out Cyber Control has no intention of respecting android rights. Surprise, surprise. I only stayed there because it seemed better than turning a blind eye."

"Can we meet in person?" I ask. I'm already excited that my article didn't dry up completely. "Maybe you could still help androids."

"How about John's Coffee downtown?" she asks.

"Noon?"

She confirms, and I hang up. I've been biding my time since I infiltrated Cyber Control, obsessively learning anything and everything I can about the company and David Downs. The company is in serious financial trouble as I suspected. There are rumors of someone skimming off the company's funds, but nothing is confirmed. There's plenty of supposition out there, but I'm determined to become the first to find solid evidence.

Dannie is already waiting when I show up at John's Coffee. She sits like a pixie in her chair, hunched over a cup of coffee. I sit down across from her. I managed to get the LED off my head with some soap, warm water, and persuasive expletives. There's still a faint red ring on my temple, but I'm hoping no one looks too closely.

"Thanks so much for meeting me," I tell her, setting my notepad and pen on the table.

"You look different without the android stuff," Dannie says, peering at me through her glasses.

"Heh, yeah. I'm still kind of new to the investigative reporting, so I haven't learned common sense yet."

"No, what you did was so brave," she says, laying her hands flat on the table. "God, I was so scared, but you stood right up to him." I notice she says 'him' and not 'it.' That wins her some big points with me. Connor is slowly learning, but he tends to revert back to 'it' unless I'm aggressively giving the android a different pronoun.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I thought I could stop him, but it's not like anyone was going to give him a fair trial."

We both sigh, and Dannie stares into her coffee. "So what can I tell you?" she says finally, bringing her brown eyes up to mine.

I fold my hands in front of me. "Let's talk about David Downs's experiments."

…

My article runs the very next day. Dannie not only gave me a full interview on David's experiments and the seedier aspects of Cyber Control, she also gave me photographic evidence and stats. She assured me she was planning on quitting, so it didn't matter if they figured out who leaked. I wasn't so sure, but I was careful not to incriminate her in my article. She hadn't been the only one helping David with his experiments, so she wouldn't be singled out.

I'd already written up an article on the deviant. I don't mention that I'm the eyewitness, but we're definitely the only paper with such detailed information. Horowitz has practically adopted me now, thrilled with my successes while Tony grumbles about me putting myself on the front lines. I know he's proud of me too, but he warns me to slow down. I don't want to slow down though. I don't ever want to stopper this rush I feel when I'm working on a new story.

My dad calls to tell me how proud he is of my articles. Mom is in the background giving her support. I haven't heard anything from my brother, but things have been tense since the accident. I wish time had resolved that, brought us closer together again, but it doesn't seem to work that way. My sister-in-law texts me to tell me she read my articles and says we should do dinner soon. I send off my usual response of, "Sure. Just name the time." We both know I'll have some excuse the next time she texts.

I'm riding this high, and I refuse to acknowledge that every high has to crash.

…

My crash comes in the form of a black car and two strong men with guns. I'm leaving the office late, reviewing what I've got for a new story, when the men step out to meet me. I can see my car in the distance, a blue beacon in the dim parking garage.

"Can I help you?" I ask, holding my keys a little tighter, thumb circling the panic button.

"Clara Weber?" one of the men asks.

I don't so much as blink. "Nope. Wrong girl." I try to move past them, but one of them reaches out a hand to grip my arm. "Take your hand off of me," I tell him steadily.

"You've upset some people," the man tells me. His eyes are hidden behind shades, and I think of how cliché they are. It might be my last thought, but it's true.

"That sucks. Maybe they should get over it." I mean, if I have to go out, I'm going to go out with my smart mouth getting in its last few words.

"We know Dannie gave you the interview. If you don't come with us, she's as good as dead."

My stomach sinks. That's not good. Dannie was not supposed to get hurt. I'd texted her to make sure she was all right the next few days after the article ran, and she assured me she was.

"Maybe Cyber Control shouldn't have played dirty," I tell the man.

"Get in the car." He shoves me, and I move to press the panic button on my keys. The car blares to life, but the keys are wrested from my hands a moment later. The alarm stops, and he tosses my keys under the car. I watch them skid across the cement. He grabs my phone and pockets it before I can even have a say in the matter.

My arm bruises where I'm dragged and shoved into the back of the black car. The doors lock automatically, and I'm trapped. Shit. Shit shit shit. This cannot be happening, but it is. This isn't the kind of adrenaline rush I like. This is much too real, much more frightening than my experiences before. God, how could I be so stupid? Did I really expect these articles would have no repercussions? I got caught up in the glory of having my name printed under the byline on the front page, in Horowitz's praise, in the power of having people read my words. Tony warned me, but I didn't listen. I never listen.

We keep driving until we hit what looks to be an abandoned warehouse. Detroit is filled with abandoned buildings these days so I have no way of guessing where we are. I'm roughly dragged from the car and inside, through rusted doors into darkness. As my eyes begin to adjust, I take in my surroundings. Bodies line the walls, some standing, some in pieces. Androids. I recognize a few of them from the videos I watched. One has a perfect hole in the center of his forehead. Another a gunshot wound. These are David's failed experiments. It's horrifying.

I'm pushed to the floor, and I hear a whimper. Dannie sits with her knees pulled into her chest. "Dannie! Are you all right?" I ask her.

Her eyes are huge in the dark, and I notice one of the lenses on her glasses is cracked. She nods, a tear escaping her eye.

"I am so so sorry," I tell her. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble over this."

"It's not your fault. I turned in my two weeks, and they just knew it was me."

"Have they said what they plan to do to us?" I ask, watching the two men. They're conversing. Then one pulls out a phone and makes a call.

"Nothing good."

"Hey, boss. We've got the girls. Yeah, yeah, no one saw us." The man who first grabbed me has taken off his sunglasses to reveal brown eyes and thick eyebrows. His nose is bent like it's been broken a few times. I'd like to break it myself if he'd give me a chance. "Relax, boss. No one will make the connection. All right. See you in a few." He hangs up.

"Hang tight," he tells us. "Boss is coming to talk to you."

"Who exactly is the boss these days?" I ask. David is dead and though there are several men with equal shares in the company, there is still a 60% share that I can't find any name behind. It _was_ David's portion until he sold it very recently.

No one bothers to answer me. The men move off to smoke outside, and I stand to survey our surroundings.

"There's no other way out," Dannie tells me. "I already checked."

"How long have you been in here?" I ask.

"Twelve hours," Dannie says. "They broke into my apartment."

I study the androids, wondering if any of them could be activated again. I have no idea what parts are damaged or what they would even need in order to reactivate. I wish Connor were here. I wish I had a way to contact him, but I haven't seen him since the day I watched the android shoot himself at Cyber Control. I need a panic button on my phone. Not that that would help right now.

I find an android that is missing its head. The torso appears to be undamaged though the cords and tubes jutting from its neck are mangled. A head lies a few feet away. I pick it up and study it for damage.

"What are you doing?" Dannie asks me, standing.

"Trying to reactivate one of these guys," I tell her like I know anything about what I'm doing.

"You can do that?" she asks.

I turn back to her. "You probably can. You worked with them."

She shakes her head at once. "Software development. I had nothing to do with building them."

"Well, I'm going to give it a try." I hold the head over the neck, noting which wires go where. The wires aren't live, but I take care touching them, winding the smaller ones together so the ends still meet. The head hits haphazardly when I'm finished, all the wires and tubes meeting with their other ends, but nothing happens.

"I don't really know what I expected to happen," I say, kneeling with a sigh.

"Maybe it needs a spark like Frankenstein's monster," Dannie suggests.

We search the room but come up with nothing that would create an electrical current. "Maybe the pump regulator needs a reboot," Dannie says.

I kneel in front of the android again and put my hand over its bare torso where the pump regulator should be. The panel isn't easy to find, but eventually I'm able to slide back a panel of its torso. I reach in and pull the pump out. I feel sick holding it in my hand and hastily reinsert it.

The android's LED flashes to life. Red then yellow then blue. I close the panel.

"It worked." Dannie crouches next to me.

The wires in the neck spark to life, exposed like veins. The head sits at a macabre angle, too high for the neck. The android's eyes open, near black in the semi-darkness.

"Can you hear me?" I ask.

"I can hear you." His voice comes out robotic, but he looks right at me. "We need your help," I tell it. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

"I—" He hesitates, LED turning to yellow, then red. It stays red this time. "I remember."

"The men who did this to you are here. They're going to hurt us." David, Cyber Control, his strong arms. It's all the same. "Can you get a message to another android?" I have no idea if that will work, but the android doesn't look like it's going to be functioning at full capacity any time soon. Contacting Connor is the only way he can help us now.

"I can. I need its model number."

"Oh." Connor's model number. I remember it had a 3 in it. Maybe a one. "Let me think a moment." We don't have a moment, so I think as hard as I can. I washed his android jacket that has the numbers on it just the other week. "313-248-317," I pull from the darkest recesses of my memory. "Tell him Clara needs help and give him this location."

The android's eyes flicker, blinking rapidly as its LED glows yellow. I don't get a chance to ask if it worked because the doors burst open, and the two guards enter the room. There's a third man with them, and I recognize him at once. We've never met, but I've seen his file. And he's seen me. Kissing Connor outside his house. It's Lazarus Benjamin, and he looks like he wants to murder us.


	26. Chapter 26

**26 Detroit 9.22.2038 **

**9:03 pm**

**Connor**

I'm in standby mode when I receive a message. I blink, fighting off the intruder. It's possible for androids to connect from a distance, but I don't recognize this android. I get an image of a room. It's blurry. A warehouse, maybe? I scan for a location, finding an address in the android's memories. It's a warehouse owned by Cyber Control. I quit fighting the connection, allowing the android to connect to me fully. I can see through its eyes. Three men stand in the middle of the room. They face two figures. One is very familiar.

_Clara needs your help_. The android's voice echoes in my head.

I'm off in a second, sprinting out to the street to call a taxi. I tap my foot impatiently, my thoughts on Clara. Why is she always getting herself into trouble like this? I don't think all humans have such a proclivity for trouble, but Clara seems to attract it like a magnet.

The ride seems to take forever, but finally I reach the warehouse. I circle around the back, peering into one of the windows. Clara is kneeling on the floor, another girl at her side. A man holds a gun toward them. I do a facial scan. Lazarus Benjamin, red ice dealer. I don't know how he found Clara, but I don't doubt he'll pull the trigger to keep his secrets safe.

I try the door and find that it's unlocked. I slip into the warehouse and crouch behind a stack of crates. Benjamin stands with two guards, their backs to me. Clara and the girl look up at the gun. The girl next to Clara is silently crying. Dannie Malcolm, her face scan reads. Former employee of Cyber Control. Clara has a fierce expression on her face, but I recognize fear too.

"You really thought you could infiltrate Cyber Control without anyone knowing?" Benjamin is saying. "We have security footage of you entering David's office. You think I'm going to stand by and let you ruin my company?"

"Was the 60% a pay off?" Clara asks, ever the investigator even when she's got a gun pointed at her head. "I know David owed you some money."

"Had to go and bite the dust before I got any of it back. It's only fair I get his company." He takes a step closer to Clara. "I've seen you somewhere before," he says. Clara says nothing. "Yeah, you were outside my house. You been spying on me?" He holds the gun closer to her head, and Clara winces.

This isn't going to end well. It's time to act. I pre-construct the scene before me. All three men are armed, but only Benjamin has his gun aimed right now. I need to get his attention away from Clara for just a moment. My eyes alight on a dismembered android arm. I reach for it. Once he's distracted, I can charge him, disarming him and shooting his guards before they can draw their guns. It will require precision and speed, but I can manage both. After the guards are down, I can knock Benjamin out.

"Haven't you ever heard the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'?" Benjamin asks Clara. "Well, you're the cat."

I toss the android arm. It clatters to the floor on the other side of the warehouse, and everyone turns their attention to it. I leap out from the crates, grabbing Benjamin's gun. I pivot, shooting twice as the guards reach for their own guns. Benjamin tries to strike me, but I bring his gun down over his head hard enough to render him unconscious. I toss the gun away.

Clara leaps to her feet and throws her arms around me, catching me off guard. I'm unbalanced for a moment as her weight hits me. Her arms clasp around my back, fisting my jacket, and she presses her head into my chest.

"It worked," she says, laughing and crying at the same time. "It actually worked."

I've never been hugged before. I don't know how to return the act naturally, but I go with instinct, and instinct tells me to put my arms around her.

"Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you for coming again. We'd be dead without you."

"What happened?" I ask her. "How did he find you?" Her back is warm under my hands, and I can feel her shaking. She pulls back a little so she can look at me but keeps a firm grim on the back of my jacket.

"My article. He was a shareholder in Cyber Control. I didn't realize that. He thought I was putting the company at risk by exposing it. He was right." She shrugs a shoulder, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"You could have been killed." She knows this already, but I feel like it needs to be voiced. The smile slides from her face, and I regret my harsh words.

Clara steps away from me, and I drop my arms. "Would you have mourned me?" she asks.

It's a loaded question. How _would_ I have felt if I'd come in to find her dead? There's no real emotional attachment there, but I don't want to see her dead. It would serve no purpose and be a waste of her life. I furrow my brow, narrowing my eyes as I try to come up with a response. "I—"

"Never mind," she says, holding up a hand. She turns away, and I realize I missed my chance.

"Are you okay?" Clara asks the other girl.

The girl nods. "What are we going to do about him?" she asks, pointing to Benjamin.

"I'll call the police," I say. "But maybe you don't want to be here when they come." The police would question them, and Clara might dig herself into deeper trouble.

"Probably not a bad idea," Clara eyes Benjamin. "I definitely don't want to be here when he wakes up."

"What if he wakes up before the police get here?" Dannie asks.

"We can bar the door," Clara says. She glances over at the side of the room, and I notice the other androids for the first time. There are piles of them, all in varying states of disrepair. One still looks whole though its head sits up too high on reassembled wires. Its LED has gone out, but I wonder if this is the android who sent me the message.

"I reawakened him," Clara says, coming up beside me. "I didn't know if it would work, but I guess it did."

"Are these…are these the androids David experimented on?" I ask, thinking of the videos Clara told me about.

Clara nods. "He did this to them. Just so they'd obey him."

Her fingers brush mine, and I look down at her. She looks like she wants to say something more, but Dannie speaks before she can. "Can we get out of here?"

Clara blinks and turns away from me. "Let's go. We can block the door with one of these crates. That should keep him if he wakes up. At least until the police get here." She crouches next to one of the dead guards and fishes her phone out of his pocket, avoiding the blood from his head wound.

It takes all three of us to drag one of the crates outside. We push it up against the door. I call the police once we're a block away and then a taxi.

"Are we going to be okay?" Dannie asks Clara.

"I think so. Benjamin will be arrested. They'll be able to get access to Cyber Control with him behind bars. We caught him." She turns to me. "What if we take down Cyber Control?"

"I'll help in any way I can," Dannie says.

"You need to be careful," I warn. "Taking down a company like Cyber Control paints a target on your back."

"They've already painted a target on themselves. Cyber Control will self-destruct. I'm just going to be waiting to inform the public of all their dirty secrets."

We drop Dannie off at her apartment first. "It might be a good idea to get out of town for a little while," Clara tells her. "Until things settle."

"Do you think they'll come after me again?" Dannie's eyes widen.

"I just think it's best to play it safe," Clara suggests.

"What about you?" Dannie adjusts her glasses.

"I'm not going anywhere," Clara tells her. "I'll be okay. I've always got Connor to get me out of trouble." She shoots me a smile before we head back to the taxi.

"My car's still at work. Can we pick it up?" she asks as the taxi pulls away.

"Did they hurt you?" I ask. Clara glances at me and then away.

"Just a few bruises. It could have been a lot worse." She meets my eyes. "I would be dead if you hadn't come."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "I would have been…" I struggle for the right words. "If you had died…"

"I know." She gives me a sad smile. "You aren't programmed to feel."

"That's not what I was going to say." I don't get the chance to explain myself as the taxi stops outside of _Detroit Today_ headquarters. Clara gets out, turning back to me.

"It's okay," she says. "I get it. I just…I guess I was hoping…" She cuts off then shakes her head. "You know what? Never mind. Just, thank you. Really."

"You're welcome." I watch her walk away as the taxi doors close. I'm still trying to answer her question in my head, trying to come up with the words I should have said. I don't think there's any other way to say it: I would miss Clara if she died. I would feel regret for not saving her. I'm programmed to work with humans, but I don't think I'm supposed to form attachments. Somehow, without me realizing it, I've come to care whether or not Clara lives or dies.


	27. Chapter 27

**27 Detroit 9.24.2038 **

**Clara**

I get a call from Tony two days after Dannie and I were abducted by Benjamin's men. I've been busy working on a follow-up story, heart pumping with the thrill of deadlines. I'm typing up the last sentence in my article when my phone buzzes. I swipe to answer and put the phone on speaker.

"Hey, Tony. What's going on?" I'm still focused on the article, fingers tapping out on my laptop. His tone makes me freeze, fingers poised to type words that will never be written.

"_Clara_."

"What happened?" Something has to have happened for him to use that tone. He has something he needs to tell me but doesn't want to. I can picture him running his hand through his thick hair, eyes crinkled around the corners.

"_Dannie's dead_."

I feel the breath leave my lungs like someone just punched me in the chest. I stare at the phone, not quite processing his words.

"What?"

"_She was getting on the bus, leaving town. Lazarus Benjamin's men got to her. She was shot, execution style. I'm sorry, Clara_."

I lean back in the chair, picturing Dannie's wide eyes half-hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses. "This is my fault."

"_No, Clara. It isn't. Don't put that blame on yourself_." I can tell Tony knew this would be my response, but how could I feel any differently?

"I got her into this. Her death is on my hands." I shouldn't have gone to Cyber Control. I was in over my head, and now an innocent girl has paid the price.

"Nothing you say is going to convince me otherwise," I tell him. Were they coming for me next?

"_I'm arranging to have the police send someone to watch your place. But I think you should stay with someone_."

"No," I say at once. "I'm not putting anyone else in danger." That's all I'd been doing lately. Putting one life after another in danger. Benjamin could come for my family, he could try to have Connor shot down, he could kill my coworkers, he could kill me.

"_Clara…_"

"How many of his men are still out there? How deeply are they dug into Cyber Control?"

"_I don't know. The police have seized control of any and all files and documents at Cyber Control since it came out Benjamin was one of the owners_."

"Then they have no reason to kill me. Dannie was where my information came from. She betrayed the company, and so they killed her." I don't mention that she and I had been kidnapped two days before by Lazarus's men and that they had meant to kill both of us then. Someone could be coming for me. The thought doesn't scare me as much as I expect. I'm numb, still in denial about Dannie's death. This one's on me no matter what anyone tries to tell me. I've been off playing detective without really respecting the fact that these are real people, real lives, and real deaths.

"I can't do this anymore," I say aloud, not really talking to Tony anymore.

"_Can't do what?_" he asks, voice half panicked like I'm talking about living.

"Put people in danger with my stories." If I had never gone to Cyber Control, if I had never asked Dannie to contact me, if if if.

"_I'm not going to let the same thing happen to you_," Tony tells me forcefully over the phone. "_You're getting a police guard tonight whether you want it or not. And don't you fucking leave your house. You need to go somewhere, you call me, you hear me?_"

"I hear you." The words come out emotionless, robotic. "I'm going to hang up now," I tell him. I don't have the energy to talk anymore.

"_You call me if you need anything, okay?_"

The word 'okay' bubbles up in my throat, but if I let it out, a sob will accompany it. I nod instead even though Tony can't see it, and hang up.

I spend the next few hours huddled on my couch under a blanket. The binds and curtains are shut tight. I hear a car pull up twenty minutes after my call with Tony, and I peek out the blinds to see a police car. He wasn't kidding about the guard, and I wonder how long it will take until I'm murdered or Benjamin's men lose interest.

I have several missed calls from Horowitz, which I ignore. The article is still up on my computer screen, but it went into sleep mode hours ago and I haven't bothered to wake it up. No more stories for me. Not if they're going to get people hurt. Here I thought I could make a difference with my words, but it turns out the snipers were mightier than the pen this time.

I fall asleep at some point, waking up some time past 3 am to drag myself into bed. I lock my bedroom door and double-check the locks on the windows. The cop car is still outside, but I see a different officer watching the house.

I call Horowitz first thing in the morning to tell him I'm quitting. His reaction is predictable: anger, disbelief. In the end, denial. He tells me my desk will be waiting until I'm ready to set my ass back down in it. I tell him not to hold his breath. I've slumped so low from the high of my successful career, but I can't imagine going back to work with Dannie's blood on my hands.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: **This is the end of part one. I'm nearly done writing part two, which is about the same length, and I will start posting soon.

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate it so much. ^_^

* * *

**28 Detroit 10.1.2038 **

**Clara**

It takes me over a week to get stir-crazy enough to leave my house. I've talked to my mom and dad a few times. My brother even called though the conversation was stilted. It was still nice to hear his voice. My family has been under police watch as well, but Benjamin's men are nowhere to be found.

I guess the police decide the danger's over or that they have better things to do because they're gone after a week. Fall has turned the air crisp, and I don a jacket and scarf before setting out. I don't really have a destination in mind. I just keep walking, my phone clamped in my hand just in case. It's a couple of miles to the river, but I make it there. I've always loved the view of the city across from it. Here there's a little park with a playground and some benches. I walk up to the railing and place my hands on the cool metal. Cars whizz by on the overpass, in a hurry to be somewhere.

My hands grow cold, so I stuff them in my jacket pockets and hunch my shoulders against the sharp breeze. I must stand for half an hour, body slowly growing colder though the sun still shines, a hazy light filtering through a cloudbank.

I stiffen when footsteps sound behind me, grasping my phone tighter before turning to see who's approaching.

To my surprise, it's Connor. "Connor. What are you doing here?" I ask. "How did you know I was here?"

"I traced the signal on your phone," he says with a shrug as if this is a normal way of meeting up with someone. "I went to the office first, but Tony told me what happened. I'm sorry, Clara."

The regret in his eyes looks genuine, his brow furrowed just a little, lips canted downwards in a frown. "He also told me you blame yourself."

"I hope you're not here to dissuade me of the idea," I say, looking down at my boots. A red leaf is stuck to my shoelace, and I bend down to pull it off.

"No. I'm here to tell you you don't have to be afraid anymore. We caught all of Benjamin's men."

I was not expecting that and look up at him in shock. "You what?"

"We caught everyone. Including the men who murdered Dannie." He watches me curiously, brown eyes soft but keen. He's dressed in his usual suit, tie perfectly straight. His only imperfection is the strand of hair that likes to fall across his forehead.

"'We'? Did you have a hand in this?" I ask.

He nods, looking almost bashful. "I tracked them down. I had help from Detective Raymond."

"So Dannie will get justice?"

"Yes. And you don't have to hide anymore." He blinks at me, watching for my reaction, looking almost disappointed when I'm not more excited. I'm still taking it in.

"Why?" ends up coming out of my mouth. I should be thanking him, but I don't understand why he would do this. A gust of wind pushes my hair across my face, and I push it back impatiently.

"Why what?" Connor questions me, furrowing his brow.

"Why did you go after them? It didn't have anything to do with deviants." I hardly think CyberLife cares if a red ice drug dealer's men come after me.

"Because I didn't want you to die," Connor says like I should have known that already. He narrows his eyes, as if confused by my question.

I don't know how to respond to that. I wanted to think Connor cared, that he wasn't just a machine following orders. He's friendly and polite, but he's programmed to be that way. I wanted to believe he had a personality that was his own, that he could make decisions on his own, but maybe I hadn't believed it. Up until now.

"I want to believe you mean that."

"I do." But his brow is still furrowed like he doesn't really believe himself. "It's not my programming. I would be displeased if someone hurt you."

If a human had worded a statement that way, I would have been offended, but I can tell Connor really means what he says—he's just not quite sure how to say it.

"Thanks, Connor." I give him a smile, the first smile in a long week. He smiles back, a little forced like he hasn't quite mastered the motion.

"Why did you quit?" he asks.

My smiles fades, and I turn away, bracing my hands on the railing again. "An innocent girl is dead because I stuck my nose in someone else's business. And that's exactly my job. How can I keep doing that in good conscience?" I turn to look at Connor as he joins me at the railing. His jacket is tugged backwards by the wind, the end of his thin tie flapping in place. The unruly strand of hair falls over his forehead, and I get the irrational instinct to push it back. I keep my hands firmly on the railing instead, not quite trusting myself.

"Because of you, Cyber Control is being shut down. No more experiments, no more using androids to commit crimes. Dannie knew the risks when she called you for an interview; you can't blame yourself for her death. That blame falls on the people who decided to hurt her."

"I'm the one who told her to get out of town. She was killed trying to leave." I shut my eyes against the wave of tears that threaten to fall. It will be a tsunami if I let them go, so I try to pull myself together.

"You aren't to blame," Connor presses. "The police found messages that Lazarus Benjamin sent when he took over 60% of the company. He wanted all the employees who had helped David with his experiments terminated. He considered them a liability. He didn't know Dannie was the one you interviewed. He'd already put a hit on her and two others who helped with the experiments. One of them is in critical condition. The other one died on site."

I take in his words. Lazarus already planned on killing Dannie. She didn't die just because I dragged her into this. She had helped me expose the company's shady side, helped me put an end to it.

"There were dozens of androids waiting for the next round of experiments," Connor continues. "They were freed, taken back to CyberLife for a new start. The app will be shut down."

"I don't suppose CyberLife was too happy about the company experimenting with their androids."

"No. After I explained the situation, I was given permission to investigate the company further—pick up where you left off. They're issuing a lawsuit now that they can prove unlawful activities on the part of Cyber Control."

"There's going to be plenty of stories in the aftermath of this," Connor tells me, tilting his head to the side, a hint of a smile curving his mouth up. He looks almost playful, challenging, like he's daring me to let someone else write it. I feel like he knows parts of me few people do because he watches and learns and tries to understand. Humans don't pay attention to detail the way Connor does. He might not be human, but he's always watching, learning to adapt.

"Mhmm," I hum noncommittally.

"Tony said your boss is keeping your job until you're ready," he continues. He thinks I need convincing. He wants me to keep writing. I hesitate though. I didn't quit lightly even if it was a quick decision, but I realize I have to weigh the outcomes. Dannie dying made me realize how much of an affect the right information to the wrong people has on other people's lives. But my article didn't get her killed and, because of what I uncovered and what Dannie shared, Cyber Control is toast. There's still good that can be done out there, but maybe I should take a step back for a while, find other worthy causes that don't put a target on my back.

"I think I proved one thing in all this," I tell Connor, turning to face him. He mimics me, mirroring my posture as he waits for my response. "We make a good team. When I'm off on my own, I get into too much trouble."

I've always been fiercely independent. Trust issues have plagued potential relationships and turned me into a hermit outside of work. I like doing things on my own, especially in a world where young women have to claw their way up. I've never been handed anything; I've worked hard for it and, in the end, it paid off. I can't let my career be this short-lived. Dannie risked her life to tell the truth. I can't hide away because I'm too afraid to dig up truths and hand out justice where I can. The pen can be mightier than the sword even if it's quieter. I'm not going to change the world, but I can speak up for it. I'm not going to end injustices, but I can speak out against them.

Part of me wants to do it alone. I don't need help because I have ambition and an insatiable thirst for the truth. But another part of me has taken a lesson away from this—it's okay to ask for help. It doesn't make you weak; it doesn't lessen your accomplishments.

"I want to keep investigating injustices against androids. I want to learn more about deviants. But I'd really like your help. I know you have your own missions, and I know CyberLife doesn't want you sharing anything sensitive with me, but maybe we can learn more together." I'm telling him I trust him in the most roundabout way possible. I'm letting him into my life, letting myself feel the slightest bit of dependence on this partnership I've come to enjoy.

Connor is quiet, thinking. "CyberLife wouldn't approve of me telling you details of our investigations." I begin to deflate. "But they can't help it if you come by this information on your own. I can't stop you from writing your stories."

"So if I were to happen across one of your investigations and put some details together for myself, that would be fair game?" I'm catching on to what he's telling me.

"And if I were to come with you, it would be in an unofficial capacity. I wouldn't be acting under CyberLife,  
so there would be no harm in helping."

"I don't want to get you into trouble."

There's that small smile again, like I've issued a challenge and he's only too eager to accept. "If you learn something about deviants, I can always report back to CyberLife. It could help further our investigations."

"So we're agreed that we'd make good partners?" I ask, my smile returning. This time it doesn't fade.

He sticks out his hand, and I clasp it. "Partners."


	29. Chapter 29

**Part Two: Software Instability**

**29 Detroit 10.18.2038 **

**Clara**

"And you're sure you didn't see anything more?" I ask, tapping my pen lightly against my notepad. A light drizzle has started, dotting the lined paper. It always seems to be raining in Detroit.

"I told you, I saw their android go running out the front door and down the street. Neighbor came running out of the house a second later with a broken nose, said his android attacked him for no reason."

"Thank you," I tell the guy, finishing off my notes and stowing my notepad away in my messenger bag before the rain can ruin it. I pull my hood up over my head, my hair already frizzing with the moisture in the air. I turn back to the house where five policemen are investigating. The lights on their cars flash red and blue against the night, bouncing off the white siding of the house like disco lights.

The victim stands outside, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. One of the police officers questions him while the others poke around the house and yard as if the android is still hiding there. It's all pretense. They have no idea where the android is, and they can't track it. But I know someone who can.

He steps up beside me, just having arrived in the autotaxi. I glance over, a smile lifting my lips as I peer at him through the rain. Water runs down his cheeks in rivulets, but he doesn't seem to mind the wet, wearing his usual uniform, tie perfectly in place. I feel a little flutter in my stomach like every time I see him. Happy. Ready for another investigation. And…maybe something more that I refuse to put a name to. I know I can't go down that path, but I'm always half-hoping another android will deviate so we can work together.

I've only seen Connor three times since he found me by the river to tell me Benjamin Lazarus's men had been caught. It's not like we can just hang out. Connor has to have a reason to leave CyberLife headquarters.

"Android ran off. No trace," I tell him, turning to face him, tilting my head up just a little so I can meet his eyes. "I don't know if it was injured."

Connor turns to the street behind me. "Which way?"

I nod in the direction he's looking. "That way. About half an hour ago."

Connor starts down the street, slowly, looking around at everything like a bloodhound on a scent trail. "It might not have gone far," he says.

"Wouldn't it want to get as far away as possible?" I ask, not quite understanding.

"It might not know where to go." Connor reaches the end of the block and pauses, surveying his surroundings.

I stand beside him, waiting patiently for him to work. "Do we know what set it off?" he asks, moving to cross the street. There's a tall chain link fence that surrounds a construction site. At this hour, everyone's gone home and the excavators and bulldozers sit like inert ghosts in the muddy field.

"His owner was an asshole? Just a guess." I shrug, and Connor shoots me a look, the very corner of his mouth rising as if he's fighting a smile.

"Is that the official report?" he asks. He's getting sarcastic, and I love it. I'm probably a terrible influence on him, but I think it gives him more character.

"It's the subjective report. Still working on the objective one," I tell him. "Got something?"

He's paused at the gate to the construction site. It's been chained and locked, but he stares up at the top of the chain link. "There's blue blood there," he says, pointing to the sharp edges along the top of the fence. "It must have climbed over."

I peer through the fence. There are a lot of places a deviant could hide. I'm torn between wanting it to get away, to gain its freedom, and finding it so I can talk to it. CyberLife wants Connor to bring the deviant back to them so they can take it apart and analyze it, figure out why it deviated in the first place. The police will probably be taking it in first, and I know Connor and CyberLife are frustrated at the lack of headway they're making.

Connor is taking a step back, studying the fence. "What are you—?" I start to ask, but then Connor runs at the fence, grabbing the chain link and pulling himself up and over the barbs at the top. He drops somewhat gracefully to the other side though the motion is a little less flawless than I'd expect from an android. He looks at me from the other side.

"Wait, do you expect _me_ to do that, too?" I ask.

"It's the only way in," he tells me.

Fine. I step back, eyeing the fence like it's a snake about to bite. Then I take a running leap. I don't make it very high up and the fence jangles loudly in the night. "_Shit_," I swear. I hang from the fence like an unbalanced sloth. It's not very dignified.

I start to climb, pausing at the top. "How do I get _over_?" I ask, eyeing the sharp points at the top.

"Just be careful," Connor says.

Easier said than done. He has longer legs than I do. Nevertheless, I grip the fence between the barbs and put one foot over and then the other. I'm trying to figure out how to get both my hands in the right spot when they slip right off of the wet metal. My shoes aren't any more help, and suddenly I'm falling. Arms catch me, cradling me before I can hit the muddy ground. I look up into Connor's brown eyes.

"Let's not make a habit of this," I tell him while my traitorous heart beats a little faster. I can feel his own heartbeat though I know it's his pump regulator rather than an actual heart. It beats the same though.

He sets me back on my feet, hand lingering on my back while I get my balance. When we first met, he wasn't comfortable with physical closeness. I still remember how he'd hesitated when I'd first reached out my hand to shake his. Slowly though, he's getting more comfortable. I notice he still moves out of the way whenever a human walks past. He often stands with his hands folded as if to disappear into the wall. Not with me though.

As we move farther into the construction yard, our shoulders bump, arms touching. He doesn't move away, doesn't apologize. He's used to me. He knows I won't get offended if he bumps into me or stands in my way. We've known each other for exactly two months now, but it feels like longer to me. We fall into an easy routine—something I've never been able to do with anyone else. And I feel safe with him. I know that even if he's not instructed to, he'll still protect me. I also know that I'd do just about anything to protect him, too.

I peer up at him out of the corner of my eye. He's focused, scanning the construction site as we walk, looking for traces of blue blood. I need to focus, but it's difficult, especially walking at his left side where he looks completely human. I feel like my rationality gets overridden when I think of him as human. When I'm looking at his LED, I remind myself of how very different we are. Not that I care about that; it's just a reminder that this partnership isn't going to be going any further than this. I don't know if I want it to. I haven't let myself put that into an actual thought. The only thing I've acknowledged is that I might possibly be starting to feel something more than a simple working relationship with him. But that's just it-he wouldn't be able to return any feelings I may or may not have for him. I do genuinely believe we're friends and that he cares about me, but I also believe that's just his programmed nature. He's meant to work well with humans, and he does. I keep hoping his kindness means something more, at least that it's _him_ and not his programming that cares about me. But I think I more than care about him, and I know he can never reciprocate that feeling.

This is exactly the kind of thoughts that are going to get me hurt, and I don't want to jeopardize my friendship with Connor. It's not fair to him.

"Blue blood leading over there," Connor says softly, bringing me back to reality. He points to a partially built house. Tarps cover part of the back providing the perfect shelter for a deviant.

"What if it tries to run?" I ask.

"I'll pursue," Connor says, glancing down at me. "You should stay here. It could be unpredictable."

"I want to talk to it before it gets brought in," I tell him. No one has ever interviewed a deviant before, and I'm determined to be the first.

"It might not be in a state to answer questions," Connor warns.

"You're adept at interrogation, and getting questions out of people—or androids in this case—is my job. Maybe it'll just be glad to have someone who will listen to it."

We have the same objective here: catch the deviant, understand why it deviated. That's where the similarities end though. Connor works for CyberLife, and CyberLife wants to put an end to deviants. I don't know enough about them yet to form a definitive opinion, and I know my job requires objective writing, but I can't help but compare this to genocide. Should those who rise above their oppressors be punished? Eradicated? The other side of that is: are the deviants a threat to humanity? Some owners have been hurt, but did they hurt first? There are two sides to every story, and I'm betting this one has more than two.

"We'll see," Connor says. He's all business suddenly, so I motion for him to continue on. I'll wait.

Connor moves forward on stealthy feet, reaching out to pull back the tarp. He disappears behind it into the skeletal structure. It's too dark to see his shadow moving inside, and the rain is coming down harder now, and I pull my hood further forward, though at this point it isn't really doing any good. I decide to circle the house in case Connor needs backup—ha. The mud sucks at my sneakers, and keeping the laces white is a lost cause at this point.

There's something unsettling about the half-built houses. They stand like balanced toothpicks in the distance, a lineup in the process of being fleshed out. I can't imagine that Detroit needs more houses, but development is a constant. While old neighborhoods crumble, new ones rise a block away. It's incredible how a city known for its advancements can have a seedier side to it, but that's true of a lot of neighborhoods these days. As unemployment rates rise, more and more people lose their houses or give up on keeping them fixed up. There are over 40,000 empty houses alone in Detroit not counting abandoned warehouses and businesses. I'm lucky that my neighborhood is still prosperous. It's not glamorous by any means, but I feel safe going out to check my mail. I wonder what kind of families will come to live in this neighborhood once it's completed and if they'll have androids of their own. It's a never-ending loop, and I know that CyberLife will continue producing androids as long as there's a demand for them. I know how much people like getting others to do their work for them, so that's not going to change any time soon.

I can see a little into the house from the back, but it's hard to see in the dark. It's just this empty, cavernous space, timber marking the rooms in neat rectangles. I hear something rustle above me, and my eyes scan the second floor. From this angle, I can't see much of anything. I don't see Connor, so it could be him I'm hearing. I have this crazy urge to run after him, but I have to remind myself he's much handier in a fight than me. At least I assume. The most I've seen him fight is with a few humans, and his movements were so precise that I could hardly follow them with my eyes.

I use my common sense and decide to stay where I am, but before I can fully commit to waiting for Connor, I see something he missed—footprints. They're quickly disappearing as puddles form along the mud, but I spot them nonetheless. Connor hasn't been out the back of the house yet, so he doesn't know the android has most likely changed locations. I could call out to Connor, but then I'd risk alerting the android more than I probably already have considering I literally fell into the construction site.

I follow the footprints, wincing as my shoes squelch. It'll be a miracle if I ever get the mud off of them, but right now the thrill of the chase cancels out my regrets over ruined shoes. Connor is going to be irritated with me, but I don't feel like waiting behind. I've never really been one for following instructions or orders anyway.

The tracks lead to an old building that hasn't yet been bulldozed. It's a snug, two-story house complete with a wrap-around porch and a creaky rocking chair. I don't know if the owners just refused to sell or if the house has been abandoned and is just waiting for the wrecking ball, but it's completely out of place here. I can't see blue blood like Connor—at least after it's disappeared from sight—but the footprints lead right up the porch, leaving muddy patches on the rotting wood. The wooden steps groan as I climb them, and I wince. Surely I've already given myself away. I half wish the storm would pick up to disguise the sound of the protesting wood, but it does no such thing.

The white paint is peeling, and I smell the heady scent of rust and mildew as I lean close to a grimy window. I can see vague outlines within, phantom shapes that must be furniture. I try the knob on the front door. It's locked or stuck, and I don't dare put my shoulder to it.

The porch leads around to the back of the house. The windows along the west side have been boarded up, and I can see a crack in the glass between the wood. I assume by now that it's abandoned but I'm really hoping I don't find any skeletons inside slowly returning to nature in a dusty armchair. The backdoor has been forced open, and my pulse quickens. I have to remind myself that this is a deviant, not some mass murderer, but I also feel like you could look up the definition of 'bad idea' and this would be it somewhere below 'pretending to be an android.'

I pull the door open and squeeze through. It's nearly pitch dark inside, so I hazard the flashlight feature on my phone. It throws a kitchen into sharp relief, the appliances something out of the 1970s. You don't see many houses like this anymore. It's a blast from a past that was already long gone when I was born. I scan the floor and note the mucky footprints marring the cover of dust. They lead me into the living room toward a set of stairs. I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and begin to climb. They creak like my grandpa's back. I might as well forget trying to sneak up on the deviant, and that's not really the point anyway. I just don't want to scare it away.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I hesitate on the landing. I see footprints leading into the room to the right. "I'm a friend," I call out. "I just want to talk. To understand. I'm not here to hurt you." I walk over to the room and flash the light around. The deviant isn't immediately obvious, but a flickering red alerts me to its presence. It's hiding behind an old chair. I move the light away before setting the phone down on the floor and sitting cross-legged in the doorway.

"My name is Clara," I start. "I work for _Detroit Today_. It's a paper. I'm currently working on a story about androids and deviants. I'm not here to judge. I just want to hear your side of the story. I know you ran away from your—" I hesitate here, hating to use the word 'owner.' "—human. Did he hurt you?"

Silence. I try again. "I knew an android who was abused by her humans. There was nothing fair about it. I wanted to stop it. I tried to, but it was already too late. Not all humans are against androids, and not all humans believe deviants are dangerous. If you let me, I could tell your story."

I wait. If it didn't respond after a moment, I'd leave. I wouldn't push it.

"He hit me when I wouldn't do something right," the android slowly answers, his voice startling me. "Every little thing I did was always wrong no matter how hard I tried. Nothing I did pleased him." He stops, and I see the blinking red LED move as the android shifts. He moves away from the chair, sitting on the floor across from me. I can only make out his outline in the dark. I don't move the light or try to move closer though. I simply sit and wait for him to continue.

"Then he started hitting me when he felt like it. When he lost his job. When his wife left. Then I hit back."

I pull my notepad out of my pocket and scribble down some notes. "When did you start feeling?" I ask. It seems like something traumatic triggers androids to deviate, and this one is no exception.

"I'd always felt inadequate and this…this sense of unfairness. Tonight I snapped. I couldn't stand there and let him hit me again."

"What does it feel like to deviate?" I've always wondered. Androids are programmed to follow orders, so it's not like just simply making a decision not to put up with someone's crap.

"It was a struggle to break past my programming. I'd been trying but suddenly it was like breaking through a wall. It no longer mattered to me that I was supposed to follow orders. Nothing I did pleased him, so what was the purpose of me serving him?"

"What will you do now? Did you consider that before you deviated?" It must be frightening. Androids don't have a place in society outside of working for the humans who purchase them. They have nowhere to go.

"I don't know." His voice breaks, and I feel terrible for asking such a question. I feel even worse when I remember Connor's mission is to bring the deviant into CyberLife. I feel a surge of confusion then—I'm torn between my loyalty to Connor and my empathy for this android who just wanted the beatings to stop. Should he really be punished for that? Shut down forever? Maybe feeling is a software error, but it's still real to him. "I didn't think…I just had to get out of there. I saw the construction site and thought it was a good place to hide."

It had been. Until we'd come along.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" My words come out rushed. It's only a matter of minutes until Connor finds us. I feel panic swelling. I want to warn the deviant.

"No."

"You can't stay here." Damnit, I can't betray him like that. "There's an android hunting deviants… He's here right now. He's supposed to bring you into CyberLife—"

The android leaps to his feet. I realize I'm blocking the doorway and hastily get to my feet, snatching my phone. "I'm sorry…" And that's when it hits me—I'm just as bad as his human. I used him to get an interview, conveniently not mentioning that Connor was after him until I got everything I needed. I feel shame well in me. Then determination.

"Hide."

"What?" He gives me a questioning look.

"Hide. I'll tell him you're not here. That you left." I don't have time to feel guilt for betraying Connor. I can't let him bring this android in. I'm terrible at keeping my emotions out of my work, I realize, but I'll reconsider my life choices later.

"Why are you doing this?" the android asks.

We don't have time for this, but I answer anyway. "Because I don't see you as a machine, and you deserve better. Now hide somewhere out of sight. I saw your LED in a second before."

He nods and moves farther into the room before sliding under the dusty bed. The skirting hides him completely. I hastily enter the room, walking over his footprints to make my own, purposefully swishing my feet around to cover up any signs that someone else was here. Then I head back downstairs. I reach the bottom of the stairs when hands reach out and grab me. I stifle my scream when I realize it has to be Connor.

"It's me," I whisper at him. He'd snatched me off the bottom step, and I'm awkwardly pressed against him, hands on his chest while his hands grip my arms. He loosens his grip immediately, dropping his hands.

His LED flashes yellow for a brief second, and I know I've done it now. "I thought I told you to stay," he says. His voice is patient with just an edge of frustration. He's not used to telling off humans, and I kind of want to push his buttons more to see if he finally snaps. I hope by now he knows I would never retaliate if he yelled at me.

"I don't like getting left behind," I tell him. "Anyway, I followed the footprints, but there's no one here. I think it left when it realized we were following it."

Connor doesn't question me, which only makes me feel guiltier. He really does trust me and while that makes me feel something other than guilt, the guilt is my foremost emotion right now.

He sighs. "Another one gone," he says, and I can see the disappointment in the slump of his shoulders.

"It's not your fault," I say, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder before I can stop myself. He tenses only slightly under my touch but relaxes a moment later when he realizes I'm just trying to comfort him. I'm probably the first and only person to ever comfort him.

"Let's just go. I'm sopping wet, and it could be anywhere by now." I drop my hand, and Connor turns to lead me from the house. That's when a floorboard creaks upstairs.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: **Thank you guys so much for the kind reviews! I'm really excited to keep sharing part two with you. :)

* * *

**30 Detroit 10.18.2038 **

**Connor**

The house is skeletal and there are not many places the deviant could be hiding. I stop and listen a moment after letting the tarp fall closed behind me. All I can hear is the steady beating of the rain. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I move forward, the plywood beneath my feet echoing despite my light movements. Stairs have been built, and I follow them upstairs. Here the rain dots my face and clothing, the framework of the roof no protection against the elements. Tarps hang across doorless rooms, and I tread forward, carefully pulling back the stiff silver material. Nothing. I move through the upper story this way, pulling back tarps, tensed for any movement in the empty rooms beyond.

It's clear that the deviant has moved on, but I scour the floor for footprints nonetheless. There are too many places he could be hiding, but the mud is a helpful tool. I return to the first floor and leave the house. Puddles are already forming, and there are still footprints from the workers scattered around. Their prints tend to be messier as they turned to survey their work. The deviant's will most likely lead straight as it tries to get away. There is a set of prints heading straight across the construction site—and there is another set following them, a smaller set most likely belonging to a woman. It's probable that there are women who work at the construction site during the day, but these prints are fresh. _Clara._

I shouldn't have expected her to stay put. If I've learned anything about her in our time together, it's that she's determined, stubborn, and always willing to chase a story no matter the personal risk. I quicken my steps, blinking rain from my eyes. There's a house ahead—an old one, still standing—and it sticks out like a sore thumb. Deviants act out of an emotional overload, and I've noticed they don't seem to have a plan for after they leave their owners. They don't know how to survive in the outside world, and they don't know how to blend in.

The house looks as if it's been abandoned for a long time, and the porch creaks as I step onto it. There are two sets of footprints here, going around the left side of the house where the wrap-around porch leads. A quick tug of the front doorknob tells me it hasn't been opened in a long time. The grimy windows and dim interior of the house don't give me much of a view inside, so I follow the footprints around the side of the house.

The backdoor is open slightly, and both prints lead inside. I wonder what Clara was thinking pursuing the deviant on her own. Clearly she wanted to interview it, but she wasn't thinking of her own safety in the least. I would have given her a chance to speak with the deviant if it was stable enough for the exchange, but Clara bypassed me altogether. I feel a twinge of what might be irritation and another twinge of fear for Clara's safety. I don't know how this deviant will react to her.

I enter the house, sweeping my eyes through the dim kitchen and the even darker living room. There are plenty of places for a deviant to hide, but the creaking on the staircase alerts me to movement. I stride forward seeing a figure nearing the base of the stairs and grab their arms. I know by the surge of warmth beneath my hands that it's Clara. She falls against me, hands pinned to my chest.

"It's me," she whispers. I loosen my grip and drop my hands while she rights herself.

"I thought I told you to stay."

"I don't like getting left behind," Clara says as if that excuses running off on her own. "Anyway, I followed the footprints, but there's no one here. I think it left when it realized we were following it."

I sigh. "Another one gone." Hunting down deviants is proving elusive. The only one I've caught up to was the deviant called Daniel and that was only because the police had already cornered him.

"It's not your fault," Clara says. She reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder as if to comfort me. I tense for a moment before relaxing under her touch. I'm not used to people touching me—not like this. Usually it's a shove followed by an insult, but Clara acts like I have feelings.

"Let's just go," Clara suggests. "I'm sopping wet, and it could be anywhere by now." She drops her hand, the warmth gone so suddenly that I half wish she hadn't pulled away. That thought muddles me a moment and I almost miss the creaking of floorboards overhead.

Clara seems to pale, her gaze following the sound and then flickering back to me.

"Stay here," I tell her, starting for the stairs before hesitating. I flick my eyes back to her. "Please listen this time."

"I will," she says so softly I have to strain to hear.

I start up the stairs, wincing as they creak with every step. With a house this old, stealth isn't possible, but unless the deviant intends to jump through a second-story window, I have it cornered. I stop at the landing, taking in the three doors before me. I haven't heard another creak since the first and, in all honesty, it could have been the old house shifting. I don't think so though. My thoughts dart to Clara and how she'd insisted the house was empty, that the deviant was gone. I don't think she would have lied to me, but I feel a twinge of uncertainty.

I look down at the floor and see that the footprints only lead into the room on the right. Someone has disturbed them as if to cover something up, but the floor leading to the other two rooms is undisturbed. I head into the room on the right. The closet doors are shut tight and, after a quick scan of the room, I pull them open. I'm already anticipating the deviant, my LED flashing yellow a moment before I realize the closet is completely empty save a few metal hangers. My eyes fall to the floor next to the bed where the dust has been disturbed the most. It looks as if someone slid underneath. I walk to the end and then crouch, readying myself as I lift the bed skirt up.

A flash of red is all I see before the deviant rolls out from the bed on the other side. He charges me before I'm ready, and I fall back against a dusty armchair, sending a puff of particles into the air. I vault back to my feet and pursue him as he crashes down the stairs.

"Clara, watch out!" I shout down to her. I see her pale face watching from below. She flattens herself against the wall as the deviant races past. I'm right on his heels, snatching the back of his shirt. He stumbles, and I grab his arm, wrenching him back. He swings wildly at me, and I step to the side to avoid the blow. Clara shouts something, but I can't hear her words over the creaking of floorboards as I try to push the deviant to the floor. His elbow comes out of nowhere, hitting my nose squarely. Blue blood begins to seep out, and I loosen my grip unconsciously. He takes advantage of my distraction and bolts, tearing from the house and into the night.

Clara grabs my arm as I try to rise to pursue him. "Let him go," she says, kneeling next to me.

I turn to look at her, some emotion I can't name rising to the surface. Hurt? Betrayal? Anger even? "You knew it was here."

Clara rocks back on her heels as if she can read the emotion in my eyes. She's silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. I find myself hoping she'll be honest with me. I wish she had been from the start.

She sighs, sitting cross-legged next to me. "You're bleeding everywhere," she says, and I'm aware of the blue blood dripping from my nose, dotting my pant legs.

"Clara."

She looks away. She can't even meet my eyes. "Yes," she answers. "I talked to him. He just wanted to get away from his abusive owner." She turns her eyes to me again, and there's a hint of pleading in them. "I'm sorry. I know it's your job to hunt them down, but Connor, have you ever considered that we're on the wrong side of this? They just want to be free from abuse and oppression. What's so wrong with that?" I can tell she wants so badly for me to agree, to understand, but I can't. It's not in my programming. It's the exact opposite of what I'm programmed to believe.

"They're not programmed to feel," I tell her, trying to keep my words gentle. "When they deviate, it's an error in their software."

"That's CyberLife talking through you. I want to hear what _you_ think," she insists, eyes hardening.

"I don't have an opinion."

She looks disappointed and a part of me wants to take that back, but what can I say? "It has nowhere to go. It doesn't know how to survive out there. CyberLife would examine it to see what caused it to malfunction. It would be given a second chance with the proper programming. Androids weren't created to think for themselves."

"That's just a convenient excuse," Clara tells me. "Emotions aren't a software error. Technology can't replicate human emotions. Not like this. He was scared and desperate. I wanted him to have a chance."

"It doesn't have a chance out there," I say, my tone just as hard as her gaze. She frowns. "It has nowhere to go. You can't save them all, Clara. Pretty soon there will be deviants everywhere, hiding out in abandoned buildings waiting to be caught. Is that life any better than the life they had before?"

"Better to be free than enslaved," Clara snaps, getting to her feet and striding out of the house.

I sigh, using the back of my hand to wipe away the blue blood. It didn't break my nose, and the bleeding has slowed. I would have caught up to it if Clara hadn't stopped me. If I hadn't let her stop me.

I catch up to her at the gate where we entered. Her hood is down, and her reddish hair is sopping wet, clinging to her face. She looks miserable, and I can't help but think I contributed to that. We both must look a mess, and I'm not looking forward to recounting the night to Amanda. She'll be disappointed, and I've already had all the disappointment I can handle from Clara.

She turns to me then, and I see that she's crying. The rain almost masks her tears, but her eyes are red and glinting a little more than usual. "I'm sorry," she says, which catches me off guard. "I lied to you, and that wasn't right."

I weigh her words and how I feel. I don't want to be angry with her. I shouldn't feel anger at all, but Clara makes me feel things I shouldn't. She has a way of pushing me past my limits and questioning everything I've been programmed not to question. She challenges me to think for myself and though I'm not supposed to, I find myself trying anyway.

"I understand why you did," I finally say. She blinks at me.

"You do?"

"You saw someone who needed saving. You have a good heart, Clara. But you need to think about whether you should be saving them. They are a danger to humans and to themselves. They don't know how to survive on their own."

She takes in my words before nodding numbly. I don't know if she agrees, but she's at least agreed to quit arguing. "Are you okay?" she asks, nodding to my nose.

"I'm fine." The blood has already stopped flowing.

Clara shifts on her feet, her mucky sneakers barely distinguishable against the mud. Then she surprises me by hugging me. "I thought he was going to hurt you," she says, and I can hear the fear and concern in her voice. "I was so afraid my lie was going to get you killed."

I can feel her trembling against me, freezing cold from the rain and the night air. I tentatively put my arms around her, realizing I'm stiff as a board, completely unsure of how to respond. I seem to be doing something right because she relaxes into me, arms tight around my back.

"Are you mad at me?" she asks.

"No," I tell her, any frustration toward her fading. I know she was just trying to be compassionate. It's a trait I admire in humans, especially since it's scarce these days.

"_Were_ you mad at me?"

I look down to find her peering up at me. Her face is so close I can see the flecks of grey in her bright blue eyes.

"Do you want me to be mad at you?" I'm feeling awkward, not just because of her question but from the contact. How long do hugs last? I don't know if there's protocol for this sort of thing, and maybe she knows I'm uncomfortable and is pushing me to give me a hard time. She loosens her grip, and I let my arms drop.

"Maybe just a little." She has a mischievous glint in her eyes that I've become familiar with, and I'm glad to see she's no longer crying. "It's okay to get mad at me, you know. Forget your programming around me."

It's easier than she knows, and I take a self-conscious step back. She affects me in a way that no one else ever has, treats me like an equal, a friend. "I was a little angry when you didn't stay put," I concede, and she grins at me.

"Good. Now help me get back over this damn fence."


	31. Chapter 31

**31 Detroit 10.19.2038 **

**Clara**

"You did _what_?"

I look up from my cup of highly caffeinated coffee and have to force back a laugh at the look on Tony's face.

"I interviewed a deviant?" Okay, so it's kind of a big deal. Not that I got much, but no other newspaper has an exclusive interview with a deviant, so Horowitz is thrilled. He hasn't said a word since I set the article with the interview on his desk but the only time he doesn't speak is when he's beyond words.

"Clara, do you ever consider the risks before you dive headlong into them?" Tony is not so pleased, however, taking his work-dad duties way too seriously.

"Connor was with me."

"And he let you interview a deviant?" I can already see Tony planning out a rant that he'll direct at Connor the next time they cross paths.

"Well, I kind of slipped away and did it without him knowing."

"Clara." He groans my name.

"I know, I know, but the deviant wasn't dangerous. Not to me. He nearly broke Connor's nose, but he didn't hurt me. He just wanted to be free. His owner beat him."

Tony opens his mouth as if to argue and then lets his breath out in a gust. "I'm not even touching that one," he says, knowing he'll never change my mind. "When did you become an android rights activist anyway?"

"When I lived as one for a few weeks and realized how shitty people treat them."

"You can't change the world, Clara."

Nothing like those particular words to make me feel so much smaller. But he's right. I can't do anything more than I'm already doing. I'm taking a pro-android rights approach to my articles but making sure I stick to the facts. My opinions might line up with what I'm writing, but I'm not putting them down on paper. I need the world to see the truth. I want to challenge them to see things a little differently, to question this. Maybe I'll change one person's mind. Maybe I won't. Either way, I'm trying.

"Just don't get too ahead of yourself," Tony warns. "You'll get hurt, and I don't want to see that happen."

…

It isn't until a week later that the first publicly violent incident involving androids occurs. Tony and I are on the story as a building burns downtown. The story is that a hostess android at a diner grew angry and set the kitchen on fire. Two humans dead. The deviant is still inside.

Connor's already there though there isn't much he can do with the fire still raging. He hangs back as the firefighters work to put it out. The buildings next to it in the complex are at risk, and the roof integrity is lessening by the second. Tony goes to interview witnesses while I join Connor. He glances down at me, unsurprised to see me here.

Neither of us speak as we watch the flames. What is there to say? The sound of creaking timber heralds the collapse of the roof. Embers fly out, and suddenly I'm in Connor's arms, as he puts his body between the flames and me. I can feel his cheek against mine, smooth, soft. That's about all I can think of until he pulls away, brown eyes blinking with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asks and for a moment I have to remind myself of where we are, of what's happening. That brings me back down to reality with a crash.

"I'm okay." I move my eyes back to the building where I can make out the blazing interior. No one could survive that. Did the android have a death wish?

"Why did she start the fire?" I ask. Connor doesn't have an answer for me.

"Witnesses say there were some young guys taunting the android." Tony comes up beside us, notepad in hand. "Others say she wouldn't take their order."

"Did she really start the fire?" I ask.

Tony shrugs. "We might never know." He turns to Connor, hesitation written all over his face. His relationship with Connor is tense at best, but he's trying. "Are androids…flammable?" He winces as he asks the question, but he's really wondering if the android could have survived the fire.

"Yes," Connor replies. "We burn just like humans."

I shiver at his words. The thought is horrible even if androids can't feel pain.

"They could have attacked her," I say. It seems likely considering the nature of adolescent men. "Or she could have been defending herself."

Tony gives me a sorrowful look like I'm really stretching, but I don't think I am. "Or she could have snapped." He says it softly, but it doesn't make the blow any less heavy.

"What do you think, Connor?" I ask, turning to the android. He looks surprised for a second, blinking at me like I've just asked him to run away from CyberLife and move in with me. It's disconcerting how such a ridiculous thought sends my stomach into a nervous twist.

"It's possible she was pressured enough that she attacked them. It could have been self-defense. Deviants don't seem to want to hurt people, but they want to defend themselves. It seems to be a reaction to the abuse—a desire for it to stop—that triggers the software glitch."

He's still referring to deviation as a glitch, but I let it slide. For now. "So, it's not likely she would have caused the fire intentionally. It would have been more a situation of her defending herself."

Connor cocks his head slightly to the side, considering. "From what I've seen of deviant behavior and patterns, yes. So far none have purposely sabotaged property like this."

"The two bodies," I ask Tony, "were they the two guys?"

He nods. I feel sick. I want to know the deviant's side of the story, but now I'll never know.

"I'm going around back. There's a chance it escaped out a back door," Connor tells me. He assesses me a moment.

"Is this where you tell me to stay put?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"I've learned that the odds of you actually listening are low," Connor says, and a smile breaks out across my face.

"Be careful," Tony intones, which does nothing to dampen my excitement over Connor including me.

The air is acrid with the smell of smoke, and the flames have finally been subdued. Connor leads me down to an alley that bends around and behind the brick buildings. Garbage litters the ground, and something foul has me wrinkling my nose. Connor doesn't seem to notice or mind. We stop outside the burnt diner. There are char marks around the door, but it's firmly closed.

"Are you going in?" I ask in surprise as he takes off his tie and starts winding it around his hand. The doorknob could be scorching hot, but he reaches for it and pulls it open. It takes a little force as the metal frame has warped with the heat of the fire.

"I just want to take a look." For someone who criticizes _me_ for putting myself in danger, Connor is incredibly hypocritical. He doesn't blink before throwing himself into danger, and I realize it's his programming—he'll do anything to accomplish a mission no matter the personal risk.

He hasn't told me much about the people he reports to at CyberLife, but I can imagine they're disappointed that he hasn't been able to bring a deviant in yet. It's not Connor's fault though. I'm torn between not wanting him to catch any deviants and not wanting him to be shut down for incompetency. I don't know if there's a middle ground.

The room beyond the door is what appears to have been the kitchen. It's charred nearly beyond recognition, clearly the origin of the fire if I'm remembering anything from Investigative Journaling 101. I had to take a class on arson in college. Witnesses and authorities aren't always the most reliable or cooperative, so I was taught to use my own eyes as well.

Firefighters are working on some of the fallen beams at the front of the diner. I can barely see them through the smoke-blackened round window in the swinging door. I put my arm over my mouth and nose, blocking out the scent with my sleeve as we enter. Connor is on high alert, eyes scanning everything. He pauses and focuses, and I think he's processing evidence in a way humans could never do.

"What do you see?" I ask when he blinks himself out of his reverie.

"The fire started in here," Connor tells me, and I'm proud of myself for guessing correctly. He points to the stove, which is blackened. Something has been charred on top.

"There are fibers there—cotton polyester blend. The fabric was set there to catch fire. And there are signs of a struggle," Connor observes, motioning to the disturbed utensils and broken cups. "They might have attacked her or tried to force themselves on her." I tense at this, and Connor's eyes flick to me. I told him the story of my first and only college party experience, so he knows this enrages me. "Either the fire was set deliberately or it started by accident during the altercation. Any evidence has been burned, so it's impossible to know for sure."

"I bet they were trying to set her on fire," I say, my voice low with anger. "Or threatening her when she wouldn't give in to them. Where were the bodies found?"

"They were near the front entrance. A beam fell and pinned them."

"But the android wasn't found?" I ask. Connor shakes his head.

"Not yet." What he means is 'we're really not supposed to be in here' since no one else has had a chance to investigate.

"Would she tell you the answers you need to know?" Dead or alive. I'd love to find her alive, but I'm not holding out hope.

Connor nods. "Hopefully."

There's a long freezer chest covered in a layer of soot. I brush it aside and open the chest. "Connor." She's inside. I want to feel sick, but I just feel empty looking at her. She's been beaten, tortured maybe. The evidence is all over her body.

Connor comes up beside me. "She's gone," he says softly. I push the freezer door up all the way so he can see farther inside.


	32. Chapter 32

**32 Detroit 10.26.2038 **

**Connor**

Clara stares down at the android's body. I can see her hands shaking, see the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. I feel a stab of injustice. This android didn't deserve this kind of treatment. Whether she deviated or not, she shouldn't have been beaten to death and shoved unceremoniously into the freezer box. There are wounds on her where the boys beat her. She tried to fight back because there's blood embedded under her nails. If I took a sample of the attackers' blood, I imagine I would match it to the blood under her nails. If I could restart her—even for just a moment—she might be able to tell us what really happened.

"I might be able to bring her back," I tell Clara. "Just for a moment," I add at the look of hope she gives me. She looks crestfallen a moment before firmly nodding her head.

"Do it." She grits the words out, and I know she wants revenge. The attackers are already dead though; there's no exacting revenge, no bringing them to justice. "The last thing we need is another story about an android attacking humans with 'no provocation'." She makes air quotes with her fingers on the last two words. She's been diligent in reporting the full story, but most newspapers favor the humans and little details such as physical and mental abuse go unnoted.

I push the android's shirt up slightly to expose her midriff. My fingers turn white as I open the hidden panel. Clara doesn't react, and I wonder if she's over the shock of seeing my skin retract to expose the natural pearly white of androids. Inside the panel, I focus on the wiring. A tug results in a few sparks and the android's eyes fly open.

"It's all right," I tell her, holding my hands up and taking a step back.

She tries to move in the cramped space of the freezer, but one arm is still broken, and the other is trapped beneath her ruined body. It's a horrible sight, and I hear Clara's sharp intake of breath beside me.

"We're not going to hurt you," Clara says, taking the lead. "We just want to know the truth of what happened here."

The android's eyes lock on Clara, panic swelling in her chest as her pump regulator keeps her alive a little longer.

"I was just doing my job," she says, her voice choked with fear. "They wouldn't leave me alone. Then they followed me into the kitchen. They tried…tried to get me to give in to them." Her LED is red. Clara is clenching her fists. "Then they began to beat me when I wouldn't give in. I-I tried to fight back. I realized it wasn't fair, that I _could_ fight back. It felt like opening my eyes for the very first time." Her voice is growing weaker, and I know she doesn't have long left.

"Did they start the fire?" Clara asks.

The android nods weakly. "After they beat me, they shoved me into the freezer. I knew I didn't have long left. I heard them shouting, arguing about the unfairness of android workers. They set a fire on the stove."

"They both died trying to escape the building," Clara says, no hint of pity in her voice.

"There were three of them," the android says. "Not two…" And then she goes slack, eyes staring off into the distance beyond Clara's shoulder. Her LED light goes dead.

Clara stares at her for a moment. Then she storms out the back door, fists clenched so tight I'm worried she might draw blood with her nails.

"Are you okay?" It's probably not the right question to ask. Of course she's not okay. I watch as she paces down the dank alley.

"One of those bastards got away!" she snarls. "How can people be this cruel?" She strikes her fist against the wall, hissing as it scrapes her enough to draw blood. I catch her hand as blood wells red against her pale skin.

"Don't hurt yourself," I tell her. I can feel her shaking. She's more upset than she wants to let on. She wants to be angry, but she's unsettled after what we've seen.

"I'm fine." The words aren't convincing to either of us. She lets me hold her scraped hand, and I hesitate to let go. Her eyes catch mine and there's a question there that I'm not sure I understand.

"I don't blame androids for deviating. I don't blame deviants for fighting back. Humankind is full of bullies and psychopaths. Why should they stand and take it?"

I've never been in a situation like these androids, so I don't know how to answer her.

"Never mind." She pulls her hand away and walks down the alley toward the street.

I don't have an answer for her, but I'm starting to ask the same question.

…

Over the next few days, there are several more burnings. No buildings are vandalized this time, just androids that are in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not strictly related to my investigations, but I go anyway. I find Clara at every scene, hastily scribbling away in her notepad, interviewing witnesses, and scouring the scenes for clues until the police shoo her away. It's evident the police aren't too concerned about the androids getting burned alive further than damaged property. That was all the androids were to them. It shouldn't bother me, but it does. There was an injustice to this, but Clara was the only one pointing this out.

"They don't give a single fuck about this!" she fumed after being ushered away from the scene of another burning. It's the fourth one in five days, and the police aren't any closer to catching the arsonist. "They're not even trying." Clara glares at the nearest police officer, stuffing her notepad into her pocket with more force than necessary. Her fingertips are turning white, her fingerless gloves doing little to keep her warm. The air has a quality of fall to it this morning, and I see Clara shiver in her thin jacket.

"How long have you been out here?" I ask her.

"An hour or two," she says with a shrug, which turns into another shiver.

I reach out to take her hands on a whim, rubbing them between my own to try to coax some warmth into them. Clara's cheeks flush at the contact, and I wonder if I've done something wrong. "Let's get you inside," I tell her, logic taking over. "You're freezing."

"There's a coffee shop just around the corner," Clara concedes. "A hot chocolate does sound good."

"Hot chocolate it is." I let go of her hands, and we fall into step together the silence companionable. I open the door for her when we reach the shop, and she gives me a smile that lights up her eyes. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed her smiles over the last few days, but there hasn't been much to smile about. I get a few stares as I enter after Clara, but she ignores them, waiting for me before getting into line.

"What can I get you?" The barista addresses Clara but gives me a wary glace.

"Hot chocolate, please," Clara orders. "I'll do a sixteen ounce."

"Let me get it," I offer before I can think better of it. I pull out a five dollar bill as Clara splutters out an objection.

"You don't have to do that," she says, but I hand over the bill anyway.

"But I'd like to."

The barista watches the exchange with her mouth slightly agape, eyes darting between Clara and me. She wordlessly makes change, handing it back to me.

"We'll have that right up," she finally says when Clara clears her throat.

We pick a table at the back of the cafe where we're not in such plain sight. We've already gotten several odd looks from the other patrons, and it occurs to me for the first time that maybe we're doing something wrong. Maybe androids aren't allowed in here, and I missed the sign. I glance nervously at Clara, but she doesn't seem to think anything is wrong. I can tell she's thinking about the burned androids again as she stares out the window, absent-mindedly picking at a loose thread in one of her gloves. I reach out and touch her hand, resting it over hers as she stills.

"They'll catch him," I tell her. It's her theory that the third guy who escaped the diner is behind the fires. We don't even have a name though. Witnesses have stated seeing a young man, but he didn't strike them as anything out of the ordinary until the fires started. Their general description of brown hair and a clean-shaven face haven't gotten us any leads.

The barista comes up to the table with Clara's hot chocolate, and I realize I'm still holding her hand. I draw back not missing the look the barista gives us nor the way she starts whispering to her coworker behind the counter.

Clara seems oblivious, staring down at the pile of cinnamon dotted whipped cream that juts from the top of her mug. "I haven't slept in days," she confesses softly. "Ever since we found the android in the freezer."

It's not something easily forgotten, and I wish I had the right words to say to her. I don't know how to make it better though, how to cheer her up.

"I'm sorry," I say in the end. I know it's a platitude, but I really mean it. I don't want her to see the android's body every time she closes her eyes.

"Thanks." She takes her spoon and digs into the whipped cream, shoving a cloud of it into her mouth before stirring the rest into the hot chocolate, turning it a milky shade of brown. "I wish you could try this," she says, looking up at me from beneath her lashes as she brings the mug up to her lips.

"I can _try_ it; it just wouldn't be enjoyable to me the way it is to you," I tell her.

In response, she places the mug in front of me. "Humor me," she says with a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

Her smile is infectious, and I find myself smiling back. "Okay." I take the mug in my hands and bring it to my lips. I can taste all the components to it—the milk, the coco, the whipped cream and cinnamon. I don't enjoy it like she does, but I enjoy seeing her response. Her smile brightens, and her eyes glow. She eagerly awaits my assessment as I set the mug back down in front of her.

"If I were human, I believe I'd enjoy it," I tell her.

She seems to like that answer though I see a little spark of sadness in her eyes. "What else would you enjoy if you were human?" she asks. It's an intriguing question, one I'd never pondered before.

I think for a moment while she sips her hot chocolate. "I think I'd enjoy reading," I finally say. "I like to learn. And I think I'd enjoy chess and puzzles."

"Because you like to solve things," she says with a smile.

"Exactly." It surprises me to realize how well she's come to know me—at least what there is to know about me. I'm not programmed to have interests like humans or to make friends. Despite that, Clara has befriended me, has taken an interest in me. 

"I'd like to think I'd be as passionate about android rights as you," I add softly, and Clara meets my gaze. It's a bold statement considering I was created to hunt deviants, to keep androids from fighting for their rights. But this is all just supposition, right? It doesn't mean anything. ...Does it?

…

Clara is laughing when we leave the cafe an hour later. I feel a swell of pride at making her laugh. Being programmed to adapt to humans and seamlessly assimilate does not mean I know how to make jokes. Fortunately for me, Clara laughs easily. If I had a favorite sound, it would be the sound of Clara's laughter. It's not delicate like her. It comes out in short, surprised bursts. It lights her eyes and heats her cheeks. It reminds me of how alive she is, and it makes me feel alive, too.

We managed to avoid the topic of the android burnings for the full hour but, as we walk past the alley roped off with crime scene tape, Clara's frown returns.

"Hey! Hey, wait a minute!" A voice from behind makes us both turn, and I see a homeless man scurrying toward us, holding his beanie on his head as it threatens to slide off. I do a quick facial scan and find that his name is Bernie Olivera, unemployed. He has a record for aggravated assault and forgery. I instinctively move in front of Clara, but she wraps her fingers around my arm and pushes me right back out of her way.

"Do we know you?" she asks him politely as he stops, panting a little with the effort of catching up.

"No, but I know you. Or at least I know who you are. You're a reporter for _Detroit Today_, right?"

Clara nods. "Do you have a tip?" she asks hopefully.

"What's in it for me?" the man asks, and Clara narrows her eyes.

"The knowledge that you've done a good deed," she says, voice tight as if her grasp on patience is tentative at best.

The man glances at me, a flicker of fear flashing through his eyes. "He your body guard or something?" he asks.

"Or something." Clara pulls out her notepad. "You gonna talk or am I just wasting my time?" I don't know why I thought she needed to be protected.

"Fine," the man grumbles. "I know the guy you're looking for."

Clara pauses, hand poised to open her notepad. "The guy who's burning androids?" she confirms.

"Yeah, that guy." His eyes flit around as if the arsonist is listening in. "He's some kid who thinks he's big stuff around here."

"Has he got a name?" Clara asks, a touch of impatience leaking through to her tone.

"Evans. Brett Evans," the man says. "He's got a record. That's all I know."

"Thanks," Clara says. She pulls out her wallet and hands him a five dollar bill. "Go get yourself a hot chocolate," she says before pulling out her phone. I follow her down the sidewalk as she places her call. "Tony? Yeah, can you ask your contact at the station if he can run a name for me?" She listens a moment. "Brett Evans," she tells him. "Thanks. And no I'm not in trouble and yes Connor is here." She rolls her eyes at me. "Fine!" She hangs up. "He says I can't do anything stupid without you with me to keep me safe." She heaves a sigh. "But he's going to try to get an address for us."

We walk back to Clara's car in silence. She clutches her phone, waiting for Tony's return call. When he finally calls back, she answers it so quickly I hardly hear it ring. She jots down an address on her notepad, sliding it toward me so I can read. 1554 N Fairway Rd. "Thanks, Tony. I owe you big time. Yes. _Yes_, I will be careful. I understand. I will call the police the second I sense any danger. I just want to check it out for now." She nods a few times even though Tony can't see the gesture before saying, "bye," and hanging up.

"Well, besides being an overbearing mother duck, Tony says our suspect has a record for aggravated assault, arson, and violating parole. His daddy is a big time lawyer, so he gets away scot free most of the time. He's living at home right now and, rumor has it, he's throwing a huge Halloween bash tonight. Tony, of course, doesn't want me anywhere near it, but I say we drop by and see if we can't light some fires of our own."


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the reviews! ^_^ You guys are the best.

* * *

**33 Detroit ****10.31.2038**

**8:05 pm**

**1554 N Fairway Rd**

Clara

The party is in full swing when we arrive that evening. Apparently this isn't the first party he's thrown, and he's on the police radar. Unfortunately, with his dad's position, they can't really do anything unless they see solid proof of wrongdoing. Connor is back in human clothes—the same clothes we got at the thrift store during our first case together. Walking into the house of a suspect of android arson dressed as an android didn't seem like a smart play. I'm in my usual clothes, and I hope we're not the only ones without costumes.

Music bleats from the house but not loud enough for the neighbors to complain just yet. Even though the lights are lit, children skirt past it, ushered by parents who cast the house disapproving looks. I feel almost self-conscious walking up the porch because I can only imagine the hidden debauchery we're about to walk into. On impulse, I reach out and take Connor's hand. At first it's stiff and unyielding and I can imagine I've surprised him. When I don't let go, he finally bends his fingers around mine, glancing down at me with brown eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Ready?" I ask. He gives me a nod, but his usual confidence is gone. We're both way out of our element here, but I'm not turning back now. I grip his hand tighter and we enter the house.

No one stops us. We get several cheers as we enter, which I'm sure has Connor's LED blinking yellow under his hat for a few moments. Everyone is already super drunk or super high on red ice. I see red fumes wafting from the room beyond as people dance with chaotic motions. I swallow hard. This is so not my scene, and I'm having flashbacks to my one party in college. I see a boy pulling a girl up the stairs, and in my mind she's the android and he's the bully. I freeze, panic welling in my chest, squeezing it tight. I'm not sure I can do this. Connor seems to sense my hesitation. He tightens his grip a little on my hand and pulls me farther into the house, skirting around the milling drinkers to a quiet spot in the kitchen. He puts his free hand on my shoulder, leaning down to speak above the music.

"Are you okay?" His brow is furrowed in worry, and I meet his eyes as I take several fortifying breaths.

"I will be." I just need to focus. This isn't college, and there's no android here to be harmed. Except Connor, but the hat covers his LED, and I'm not letting him out of my sight.

"I'm fine," I manage after a beat. "Just bad memories."

He nods, understanding, and I'm glad I opened up to him. Somehow in three months, I feel as if he knows me better than any human. I know he's still learning. Humans are an enigma that can't possibly be understood so quickly, and I have to remind myself he's only been around a few months. "We can leave." I can tell by his tone he doesn't expect me to take him up on his offer, but I appreciate that he's putting my well-being above the investigation.

"No. I'll be okay." I give him a tight smile. "Let's find Brett." Tony sent over his mug shot earlier, so we both know who we're looking for. I feel a surge of anger building in my veins and focus on that. I'd rather be angry than afraid. We weave through the party guests, and I fend off red solo cups and try not to breathe as we pass red ice junkies. A couple is shooting up in a corner looking blissfully unaware of anything going on around them. It disgusts me, but I can't let that show on my face. Someone might notice we're not having a fun time and ask questions.

"We should pretend to be having a good time," I whisper to Connor, leaning up to reach his ear. "Otherwise we're going to draw attention." This isn't some college party that we're crashing. These people hate cops and they hate snitches even more. I've already seen a couple guys glance my way, and so far I'm sure I look more like I'm attending a funeral than a party. Not everyone is wearing a costume but even still, we're standing out too much.

"Okay," Connor says, unsure. He doesn't know how to have a good time in a place like this and neither do I. But I know how to fake it. I slide my fingers through his and laugh, smiling as if I haven't a care in the world. He smiles back at me, hesitantly. It comes out as more of a grimace.

I move us toward a table filled with beer bottles and solo cups. I snatch a cup and fill it partially, handing it off to Connor before filling my own. "Don't drink it," I warn as he gives it a cursory sniff. He wrinkles his nose at the pungent scent.

"People really enjoy drinking this?" he asks softly.

I shrug. "I guess. I never developed a taste for beer, and I certainly never thought getting drunk off my ass and waking up the next morning feeling like you went through a cement mixer overnight was equivalent to a good time."

We stand and pretend to sip our drinks, eyes scanning the room for our target. "Let's see the other rooms."

The living room is expansive, but I don't see Brett anywhere. There's a game of beer pong going on in the dining room, but he's not there either. They actually have a billiards room _and_ a study and several guest bedrooms on the first floor, but he's not in any of the rooms, and I have to give an embarrassed apology to a couple we walk in on in one of the bedrooms, my heated cheeks completely genuine.

"Let's try upstairs," I suggest. We abandon our cups and move up the grand staircase. There are doors everywhere, and I don't even know where to start. I can hardly open every one and hope I don't walk in on someone in a compromising position-or raise suspicion.

"There," Connor says, nodding subtly to the railing across from us. And there stands Brett gazing down on his empire holding a glass of something much more expensive than beer. He's flanked by two girls who seem to be trying to get his attention without being too obvious. "What do you want to do?" Connor asks. Brett is turning our way, so I grab Connor's hands and place them on the railing on either side of me, boxing me in. He tenses but keeps his eyes on me as if sensing a distraction. I lean closer to him, heart picking up a little. Apparently I like to torture myself because that's exactly what this is. Connor is calm, but I feel like a mess right now. I have to remind myself we're just acting.

"We pretend we want something from him. He's in charge here. I thought he'd be drunk as hell and partying with his guests, but he's not so that means he's staying sober for a reason. Maybe he's got some kind of deal going down, maybe he just wants to make sure none of his parents' precious dishware gets broken. Tony said he has a record for dealing, so we could play the red ice card. I have a feeling that as soon as we talk to him, he's going to realize we don't belong here. He didn't invite us. I'm hoping it's not uncommon for his guests to invite guests of their own. As long as we pretend to hate cops and following the law, he might buy it."

"And when we get him alone?"

"I want a confession," I say. I don't know how I'm going to get it, and I know I can't ask Connor to rough him up. "We might be able to charm it out of him. Speak to his ego. But we're also going to have to pretend like we hate androids." I glance up at him, afraid this will bother him, but he just nods. He's pretending to be human tonight, so it's not really a stretch.

He steps back and I smile at him as if we've just shared some sort of romantic moment instead of plotting against the host of the party. I lock eyes with Brett and stretch my smile. "Brett? Brett Evans?" I ask as if I had no idea this was his party. I'm totally making this up as I go, so I hope his bullshit meter is broken.

"Do I know you?" he asks, stepping forward to greet us. The girls pout behind his back, but I ignore them.

"We did a couple classes together at the community college." Tony mentioned Brett had attended for a few classes before dropping out. "I'm Sara." He's probably met about a dozen Saras in his lifetime, so I take a stab in the dark.

"Oh yeah," he says, a little recognition lighting up his eyes. Sometimes when someone approaches you with confidence saying they know you, your brain starts to create false memories of this person. I could have been in a lecture hall and he wouldn't be able to confirm that I actually wasn't. It's an easy sea of faces to get lost in.

"What was that professor's name? The one that was always rambling on and on..."

"Professor Hopper?" he asks with a grin.

"Yes! He was so boring." I roll my eyes.

"So how did you hear about my party?" he asks. He hasn't totally let down his guard, but he isn't suspicious anymore.

"Oh through, who was it?" I turn to Connor, waving my hand. "A friend of a friend. He said you throw the most killer parties on Halloween. We would have dressed up but, well, slutty nurses are so last year." Who is this girl speaking with my voice? I press on before I slap myself. "This is my boyfriend, Tom." I gesture to Connor, and he holds out a hand to shake Brett's.

"Good to meet you," Brett says, shaking it. "Aren't you a little hot?" He motions to the beanie covering Connor's LED.

"He gets cold really easily," I lie. "He was really sick as a kid, and he's never totally shaken it." No one questions sick people. I trust that Brett won't either. "So actually," I say, drawing out the words. "We were hoping we might be able to do a little business with you."

Brett closes off just a little and I want to curse myself. Too soon? If I stand here shooting the breeze as Sara any longer, I'm going to pull a muscle in my mouth. Sara smiles a lot. I'm not a fan of Sara.

"Let's talk somewhere else," Brett says.

"Okay, sure." He leads us down a hallway, and I can hear people murmuring behind closed doors. We stop at the last door, and Brett pulls out a key.

"Gotta have one place to escape to," he says with a shrug, opening the doors for us to enter. It's a bedroom-Brett's I assume. He shuts the door before going to sit on the edge of the bed. Connor and I are forced to keep standing, but I pretend not to mind.

"So. What was it you were looking for?" he asks.

"Oh, the usual," I say with a twitter. "Maybe something red?"

Brett chuckles, seemingly charmed by Sara's cluelessness. "I don't deal that anymore," he says. "My contacts were, shall we say, dissuaded from ever doing business with me again by my father. I can deal you some pot or some coke. I might have some E if you're looking for an escape."

"You don't have _any_ red left over?" I ask in a pouty voice. Brett grins. What a sucker.

"Okay, I might have a tiny bit left over, but I'm not giving you my stash." He moves to grab a tin stowed on the top shelf of a bookshelf. I pretend to be excited while rolling my eyes at Connor. Brett hands me a tiny bag of red powder and I want to throw it into a toilet at once.

"How much?" I ask, hoping he'll just give it to me. I don't want to give this pig a cent and I only have two dollars anyway.

He waves a hand. "For old time's sake," he says.

"Now I remember why I liked you," I reply. "Hey, kind of off topic, but are some of the rumors I've been hearing true?" I have to play this carefully or he might shut down.

"Rumors?" He looks cautious, but I can also tell I've stroked his ego.

"About the androids? And the fires?" I lower my voice. "I heard you've been taking a match to the fuckers." Inside I'm screaming at what a terrible person Sara has become. Fuck you, Sara.

Brett's grin grows. "Oh yeah? You heard that?"

"I was kind of jealous. Tom lost his job because of androids. Lost his health insurance. His medication is hella expensive without it. I wouldn't mind setting some of them on fire myself."

"That's ballsy, Sara," Brett tells me. I had pressed record on the phone in my pocket the second I'd entered the room. I just needed a confession.

"Yeah, well, they have it coming. How many did you light up?"

Brett leans forward, conspiratorially. "I have one down in my basement right now."

"What?" The alarmed response that pops out of me is totally genuine. "Really?" I try to smooth it over.

"Yeah, wanna see?" he asks. He pulls a lighter out of his pant's pocket and starts to play with it.

"Hell yeah," I say, trying to look eager. I am, in a way, because now I can get evidence of his crimes. "How'd you swing that?"

"Mad skills," is all he says, and I frown at his back as he leads us out of the room. We have to wade through the party goers to get to the basement. Tony would be waving a matching set of red flags in front of my face if he were here, but I am not turning back now.

The basement is a full room, well lit and filled to the brim with stuff. But not an android. I realize a second too late that Brett knows full well there was no Sara in his class. There probably was no Professor Hopper. It was a test. Fuck. I didn't think he was this smart. I think all this in a split second as I turn. Connor goes down hard with a blow to the back of his head. I cry out, trying to get to him, but Brett grabs me from behind, hoisting me clear off the floor.

"I thought I recognized you, but I realized it wasn't from college. It was from the front page of the paper my parents so religiously read, _Clara_."

Connor is unconscious. At least I hope he is. Then his eyes flit open, and he tries to get to his feet. Brett shoves me aside sending me sprawling to the floor. My head hits the base of a metal shelf and everything goes black.

...

When I open my eyes again, I'm still lying in the basement. My head is throbbing but no blood comes away when I touch it. It's completely dark, but I can hear the sounds of the party raging up above me. I try to call out, but I realize there's no way anyone would hear me. I reach for my phone, but my pocket is empty. The red ice is gone, too. No loss there, but my phone...

I struggle to my feet, vision wavering a moment as my head throbs. Getting up the stairs offers quite the challenge with my vision swimming, but I fight back the pain and try the door. Locked. Of course. It's not a strong door, just your average door, but there's no way I can shoulder it down. I find the light switch and the basement floods with light. There has to be something in here I can use to beat down that door. I _have_ to get to Connor. I see a spot of blue blood on the floor where he had been, and my blood boils. If they've hurt him... This was a terrible idea, and I blame myself totally for anything that happens to Connor. I toss boxes here and there, tear into everything. When I open up a wooden box expecting to find yet another useless object, my hands still above a handgun. I check to see if it's loaded. It's not, but the ammo is inside the box too and I inexpertly load it, metal cool and unfamiliar in my hand. I race back to the door and level the gun at the lock. _Bam! Bam! Bam!_ The shots are louder than expected, but the wood shatters, and the door swings open, lock completely compromised. I burst out expecting to find a crowd of confused onlookers. There's no one there. They're all outside, and my heart drops at the sight that awaits me.

Connor has been trussed up in the backyard. I can see him struggling, but his hands and feet are tied. Blue blood drips down his temples and his nose. His hat has been ripped clean off, exposing his LED which is currently bright red. His eyes meet mine over the crowd, and I see a silent plea for me to run, to save myself. Instead, I lift the gun and fire two shots into the sky. People scatter. I get several terrified looks, but no one questions me.

"GO!" I shout at the top of my lungs. Brett doesn't budge nor do his 'lackeys' who stand at his side. They each have blue blood on their knuckles, and I'm going to make them pay for that.

"Let. Him. Go," I enunciate, aiming the gun at Brett.

"Clara, Clara, Clara. I thought I'd taken care of you," he says, trying to act nonchalant. I can see his eyes calculating though. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know if I'll shoot. In truth, neither do I. He plays with something in his hand, a lighter, and I notice what lies at the base of Connor's feet. Wood. Kindling. They were going to burn him. My vision goes red. There are four guys other than Brett. There's no way I can fight that many. I probably, definitely, can't even fight one.

"Step away or I shoot," I say, trying to sound like I mean it.

"I don't think you will shoot, Clara." I hate the sound of my name in his mouth. I want to spit.

"You have no idea what I will or will not do," I return.

"You've never shot a gun, have you?" he asks, taking a step toward me.

"I just shot your basement door pretty dead." My eyes are on the lighter. One move, one flick... "Toss me your lighter," I say. He smiles.

"This?" He flicks it open, flame dancing. "Okay. I'll toss it." And he does. On the ground. I shoot as flames lick the grass. Brett cries out, blood spraying out from his arm where I shot him. The others run at me, but I point the gun at them.

"LEAVE!" I shout, firing a warning shot at the ground. It's a miracle I even hit Brett. I have no idea what I'm doing, but my rage makes me see clearer.

"Crazy bitch!" Brett yells at me.

"I've been called worse." The flames are spreading, not quite to the kindling around Connor. I feel a frantic surge of fear, but my path to him is still blocked. Then a cry of "COPS!" echoes in the night, and suddenly the guys are all about getting out of my way. Everyone except Brett. I see flashing red and blue lights lighting up the side of the house. Brett is on his feet, striding toward me. I don't want to shoot him again so I dodge, running to Connor while Brett swears angrily behind me. The evidence of his crimes are all over the house, and he bolts inside as if to try to hastily cover them up.

"Connor!" I tuck the gun into my pocket and move behind him to work on his ties. The flames are spreading, eating up the grass and turning it to char. A piece of kindling catches fire, and I can feel the warmth of it now, uncomfortable and dangerous. His wrists and legs are zip-tied and I swear in frustration. "Hold on." I do a quick scan of the yard, but Connor beats me to it.

"Garden shears. To your right." He bobs his head toward a garden shed, and I see the shears glinting. I run over and snatch them. The flames are nearly to Connor now, and my hands are shaking. I maneuver the shears a clip the ties. As soon as they drop to the ground, I drag Connor away, the fire scorching at our backs. It's a bonfire now, and the spot where Connor was standing moments before is now the center of the flames. I hear the voices of police in the house, busting down the front door. The fire department has been called, I presume, and the night air is acrid with the scent of burning wood. I stand, breathing hard, my hand still clasped tightly around Connor's wrist.

"Are you okay?" I ask, reaching up with my other hand to wipe some of the blue blood away.

"I will be. You saved my life." His brown eyes are intense, watching me with emotion I can't quite define.

"No one hurts you on my watch," I say fiercely.

"I was afraid he'd done something to you when I woke up and couldn't find you," Connor says, leaning closer as if to inspect me for wounds. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a bump on the head. I'll live. If Tony doesn't kill me first." I feel like I'm babbling, and I realize I'm shaking. Connor pulls me away from the fire, and I feel suddenly cold. Firefighters run into the yard, hose ready to douse the spreading flames. The night has descended into chaos, but I feel safe next to Connor. His LED is back to blue. We're kind of in the shadows where we stand next to the outside fence. No one is paying us the least bit of attention. His eyes watch the firefighters, but my eyes watch him. He'd almost died tonight. He'd almost been Brett's next victim.

"I almost got you killed," I tell him.

"You saved my life," he repeats, turning his eyes on me. They're warm, soft, and I don't feel like I deserve his kindness.

"Because I almost got you killed in the first place!"

He shakes his head. "It's okay, Clara. _I'm_ okay."

My heart is pounding so hard it makes my throbbing head hurt more. My fear for him was so visceral. And god I want to kiss him so badly. That thought makes everything else go silent. No more fire, no more people, no more fear. All my thoughts are centered on that one feeling. I want to kiss Connor. Not like last time where we'd been trying to stay undercover. I could no longer ignore the feeling that had been creeping up on me all this time. I felt like I was crossing a line-humans didn't fall in love with androids-it just didn't happen. Not that I was in love with him. I definitely wasn't in love with him. I just...I just really liked him. He was everything that I wanted in a friend even if neither of us had realized that. I could no longer imagine my life without him and that was frightening. I wasn't used to that kind of connection. I didn't feel that way toward people. But he wasn't human. He was so much better, so much more.

He seems to realize something has changed. He cocks his head ever so slightly at me as if trying to figure out what I'm thinking. I can see the dying fire reflected in his eyes, and I realize I'd taken a step forward. My hand on his wrist slides up to his shoulder and then the back of his neck, feeling his feather soft hair. My eyes fall to his lips. All I have to do is lean up. I have no idea what Connor's thinking, but he's not pulling away.

"Clara…" He says my name tentatively like he's trying to process what I'm doing. His eyes are on me, but they dart down to my lips for just a second. My heart skips a beat.

"CLARA!" I jerk away from Connor as a very angry voice sounds from the gate. Tony is standing there, and he looks livid. My cheeks flush a deep red, and I'm glad the night has thrown my face into shadow. "_This_ is your idea of 'just checking it out'?" He quotes my earlier words back at me using aggressive air quotation marks. "The yard is literally on fire."

"I-er-everything didn't exactly go as planned," I say lamely.

Tony runs a hand over his face. All I can think is _did I really just almost kiss Connor?_ I can't tell what Connor is thinking, and I don't dare look at his face.

"We got our guy though," I supply meekly.

"Take her home _now_," Tony instructs Connor. I think Connor might be in for a sound verbal beating, but Tony sees the blood on his face and backs off. "I will handle this…mess." He motions at the yard.

"They were going to burn Connor," I tell him. "I did what I had to do to protect him. Brett assaulted both of us and he has red ice."

"_Jesus_." Tony gives a long sigh. "I don't want you in any more trouble tonight, you hear me? This is going way above and beyond your job, and you are going to get yourself killed. Or Connor."

That shuts me up properly. "I hear you," I mutter.

"I will text you the details later, but I want you home before you make this any more of a shit-storm."

I nod dejectedly and motion for Connor. We leave the yard in silence and walk the block to my car. It's only then that I realize I still have the gun in my pocket.


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for reading and for the reviews! Every time I get an email that I have a review, it makes me smile. This is kind of a short chapter, so I'm going to get another one posted as soon as I scan it for typos.

* * *

**34 Detroit 10.31.2038 **

**10:45 pm**

**Connor**

Clara drives in silence. I offered to drive her, but she insisted she's fine. She refuses to look at me, and I know something has changed between us. It's hard for me to understand because I don't feel human emotion. But I can read hers. Right now she's embarrassed. I can tell by the way her cheeks retain a hint of pink. I still remember the feel of her fingers in my hair, the way she leaned up, eyes darting down to my lips. I'm pretty sure she was about to kiss me. I can't wrap my mind around that. I can't even say how I feel about it. Androids aren't programmed to feel affection or love for humans or for one another. I think back to the android Daniel who used to be close to Emma Phillips. He professed to love his humans, but he was a deviant. I am not a deviant, but when I think of Clara I get a rush of unfamiliar feelings. It's both unsettling and intriguing.

As Clara pulls into her driveway, I feel suddenly nervous. I don't know what to say to her. I have a feeling she'll try to pretend nothing happened and maybe I should, too. Something else inside of me refuses to let it go though. I'm curious.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Clara says, getting out of the car. We enter her house, and it's much the same as last time. There are mugs everywhere and blankets droop onto the floor from the couch. It looks as if she's acquired a few new books since the last time I was here. Clara seats me in the kitchen and wets a washcloth.

"Do you...heal?" she asks.

"Androids can heal like humans. We can also withstand much more as we don't feel pain. Some damage must be repaired at CyberLife."

She starts to rub at the blood on my face. I almost protest that I can do it myself, but there's something soothing about letting her. "Are you badly...damaged?" I can tell she doesn't like that word. She still wants to think of me as a human and not a machine.

"No," I tell her. It could have been much worse. "Just a bloody nose and some cuts."

She purses her lips, and I can tell she's still upset over what happened. "What did they do to you?" I ask softly, more worried about her. In the time I've known her, she's had her life threatened multiple times. I know she would never show how much it affects her, but I wish she could be open with me about what she's feeling.

She shrugs. "Nothing. After I lost consciousness, I woke up and you were gone. He locked me in the basement."

"Which you shot your way out of?"

She winces and reaches into her pocket laying a gun down on the kitchen table. "I didn't know what to do with it," she says.

"I'll take care of it," I tell her. "You did nothing wrong."

She rinses out the washcloth before finishing up. "Not too bad," she says. "It looked worse than it was." She drops the cloth in the sink, washing the blood from her hands. I get up from the table, hesitating.

I know sometimes I can be too direct-humans don't always respond well to that-but I know she'll never tell me if I don't ask. "Tonight...after you pulled me away from the fire..."

She shuts off the water, drying her hands and turning to me. I can see her closing off already. "I was out of line," she says at once. "I should never have... I know you can't...don't." She breaks off, looking away. I can't bear to see her looking so ashamed when she did nothing wrong. "I'm just really glad you're okay is all," she says finally, giving me a tired smile. "I can drop you off at CyberLife if you like."

I can tell that's all I'm going to get out of her tonight. "It's all right," I tell her. "I'll just take a cab. Thank you." I motion to the blue blood covered washcloth. "Let me know what Tony finds out."

"I will. Do you want to meet up tomorrow? I can tell you what he says," she suggests, and I'm relieved to get back to normal.

"Sure." We decide on a time and a place and I call a cab to take me back to CyberLife. The whole way back, I think about what she told me. She had been caught up in the moment, relieved. Humans didn't have feelings for androids, and I had been stupid to think that was what she was feeling.

...

"Connor."

I'm in the Zen Garden. Amanda wants an update, and I find myself feeling nervous. I haven't really learned anything new about deviants, and I was not created to hunt down human criminals. I turn to face her and see the disapproving tilt to her eyes.

"How have your investigations been proceeding?" she asks me in a tone that implies she already knows.

"They have been...admittedly a little off-track," I tell her.

"And why is that?" She knows the answer to this question too, but she's going to make me say it.

"I've been wrapped up in helping Clara. There was a human burning androids and I-"

"Humans are not your concern, Connor," Amanda says, her voice like thunder in the quiet space. I nod feebly, bowing my head at her disappointment. "This human girl is proving to be a distraction to you." I look up, knowing what's coming next. "I don't want you working with her anymore."

"She's been a help in my investigations into deviants," I scramble to defend. "We just got a little off-track."

"Her investigations are not your concern, Connor. CyberLife created you to hunt deviants not humans." She studies the cut on my forehead. "We can't have you getting damaged on missions you were not approved to go on."

I nod. "I understand."

"This Clara. Is she your friend?" Amanda asks.

I hesitate. Clearly Amanda doesn't want to see any sentimental attachments I might have formed. Instead of telling the truth, I say, "I'd consider her more of an associate. We help each other out." It feels wrong to call Clara anything but a friend.

Amanda's lips turn down in a displeased smile, and I know she doesn't believe me. "From now on, you will only investigate cases CyberLife assigns you," she tells me. "Until then, stay away from that girl." She turns and walks away, her final word said. I'll be put into standby mode until I'm called on for another case. I manage to send a short message to Clara's phone.

_I can't come tomorrow. I-_

I can't even complete my message before I'm forced into standby. It's a harsh reminder that I am just a machine. Why then does a part of me want to be more?


	35. Chapter 35

**35 Detroit 11.5.2038**

**11:40pm**

**6413 Pines Street**

**Clara**

I'm craning my neck, trying to see past the onslaught of press and the police tape. Unlike the rest of the people here, I'm not trying to get a glimpse of a dead body. I'm looking for Connor whom I haven't heard from since Halloween night. I was still trying to decipher what his message meant. He couldn't meet me, but why? It cut off abruptly and he hadn't returned any of my messages. I had finally concluded that he'd gotten in trouble for coming with me. He had gotten damaged, and CyberLife or Amanda or whoever didn't want him to work with me anymore. It was a blow that had staggered me more than I expected. And reminded me that whatever we had between us would never work.

But I want to see him again. I'm hoping to see him here tonight.

Tony grabs the back of my jacket and pulls me back a few steps. "Clara, you're going to get trampled if you keep shoving your way in there to look for your boyfriend."

I stare at him, mouth agape. "He's not my boyfriend," I splutter. "And Horowitz is always telling us to get right in there and get a story."

"What happened to your insider's tips?" Tony casts me a glance. "Did you get in a fight?"

"For the last time, he is not my boyfriend!" I hiss at him.

Tony holds up his hands. "You're awfully defensive."

"I…haven't spoken to him in a few days. CyberLife is tightening the reins." I bite my lip. "I'm afraid we won't get to work together again."

Something over my shoulder catches his eye and he nods toward an old car. I squint into the darkness. It's been raining since I got here, and my hood is drawn up as far forward as it can go. I see an older man get out of the driver's side of the car. His grey hair comes to his shoulders, and he's wearing a truly hideous button up under his jacket. I don't understand what Tony's looking at until a familiar figure gets out of the passenger side. It's Connor.

"Looks like he got a new partner," Tony says slowly, his tone that of breaking particularly bad news.

I watch as Connor walks up to the police tape. An android stops him, telling him that no androids are permitted beyond that point, but the grey haired man calls out, "He's with me," and Connor is allowed to pass.

I'm surprised to find I'm _jealous_. Connor has a new partner. "Who is he?" I ask Tony.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson," Tony replies. "He was a decorated officer in his day, took down some big names in red ice dealing. I've interviewed him in the past."

"Why would Connor be working with him now?" I wonder aloud. If CyberLife didn't want him working with me, then why would they send him to work with someone else? _An actual police officer_, I have to remind myself.

Tony shrugs. "Maybe he's investigating deviants, too."

All we know so far is that a body was discovered inside the house and that an android might have been involved. We don't have a name yet, and I itch to follow Connor as he disappears inside the house. I find it hard to believe anyone was living inside. It's falling apart and if the inside is anything like the outside, it's probably disgusting.

There are a lot of big shots out here tonight trying to get the story. Everyone is on edge over the deviants. No one pays me the least bit of attention, and I feel a little stab of disappointment, but I'm also bundled up like an Eskimo against the rain, so I won't hold it against them if they don't recognize me.

Without Connor, it's going to be more difficult to come by stories, but that's not the reason I'm feeling disappointed. Not the reason I'm feeling sad seeing him working with someone new. I knew it was just a matter of time until someone interfered with our friendship. Androids and humans just weren't friends the way Connor and I had been, and though I'd like to believe he misses me too, I wonder if he can even _can _miss someone. He's not supposed to feel emotions at all, I have to remind myself. _Stop making him something he isn't_. But I can't help it. I believe he _is _something more.

We continue to stand in the rain. A few less intrepid reporters and journalists have left, but Tony and I stand hunched against the rain. "So, the other night..." Tony starts, hesitating.

He'd called me an hour after Connor had left Halloween night to tell me they'd caught Brett Evans trying to get rid of all the evidence of his party. The red ice couldn't be hidden, however, and there were too many other infractions. To everyone's surprise—Brett's more than anyone else's—his father did not get him off easy this time. My phone had been found in Brett's possession along with the recording of everything he'd said and done. His father was personally making restitution to the families that had lost their androids to his son's arsonist tenancies.

I was able to write a piece on the arsons as well as a follow up on Brett Evans's arrest. Somehow despite the articles' successes, I didn't feel the same excitement I had in the past. I've settled into my new routine of investigating and writing, but something's still missing. Tony says I don't have a life outside of work, and I suppose that's true. After all, why else would I be standing in the rain outside a crime scene on a Friday night? I live and breathe work and I thought I'd found something else to live for, but now I'm not so sure.

Nearly an hour passes, and Connor and Lieutenant Anderson exit the house. The press surges forward, but I stand back, unwilling to push my way forward to get the story. Tony takes my place as I hang back. I try to catch Connor's eye, but the Lieutenant is saying something to him, and they're both back in the car before I get the chance. Connor turns as the car pulls away. I push back my hood, and he finally sees me, LED flashing yellow for half a second before the car is past.

"I've got everything I'm going to get tonight," Tony says a few minutes later. "Any chance you can get the rest of the story from him?"

"I don't know," I say truthfully. It feels too much like using him, and there are other things I'd rather talk about than murders.

"Wait." Tony turns back and I see the police escorting an android from the house. His hands are cuffed in front of him, and his face and uniform are covered in blood. His LED is bright red, and he looks resigned, shuffling between the police officers. I move forward so I can get a closer look. I don't miss the injuries, the marks of abuse. I think I know exactly why this android deviated.

"This is the first one Detroit Police have caught outside of Laura and the one the snipers took down in August," Tony says quietly beside me. "And I think this one is actually guilty."

...

I can't even think about going back to my house despite the hour. I find myself driving past the precinct where the deviant was taken. I see Lieutenant Anderson's car outside and wonder if Connor is still there. I wait for half an hour feeling like a total stalker when I see Connor leave the building. I trip out of my car, and his attention darts to me. It's still misting out, and I'm chilled despite letting the heater run in my car.

"Clara." Connor walks over, and I try to look nonchalant as if I hadn't just tripped ungracefully out of my car. As if I hadn't been waiting here for half an hour to talk to him. "What are you doing here?" he asks, brow furrowing as rain dots his cheeks.

"I saw you earlier. I just wanted to see if I could catch you," I tell him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you earlier this week," he says. "I was...asked not to."

That was what I had been afraid of. "They don't like you working with me."

He shakes his head. "Amanda thinks you're a distraction to my investigations, that I've been getting off track."

"So you're working with the police now?"

"It looks like it. We interrogated the deviant." His eyes go distant, his mouth curving into the slightest frown.

"What did he say? Off the record, I swear."

"He...he was being abused by his owner. He was just defending himself. He'd finally had enough and he stabbed his owner. Twenty eight times."

I wince. "That must have been gruesome."

"It was. It took a while for the body to be found," Connor replies.

"What's going to happen to him?" I picture Laura sitting in her cell awaiting her judgment.

"He'll be disassembled. They want to understand why he deviated." Connor says it matter-of-factly, but I sense a hint of sympathy, a hint of compassion. My heart swells a little. Connor is a deviant hunter—it was what he was designed and programmed for—but at heart, I know he's conflicted. I don't point it out. He'd only deny it, and I know it's something he has to realize on his own.

"What if it's not a software error? This android suffered a trauma just like Laura, just like the android at the diner. There's a recurring theme here."

"There's something else," Connor says, hesitating. I worry he thinks I'll write everything he says into an article, but he continues on a moment later. "In the bathroom shower, there was a message written on the wall. Have you ever heard of RA9?"

I shake my head. "No, what is it?"

"The android seemed to think RA9 was going to save androids—set them free. I didn't get a specific name. I'm not sure he knew. He had a sort of shrine built for RA9 though."

"That sounds only mildly creepy," I say. "I didn't see any mention of RA9 in the Downs's house, but Laura never actually deviated." I can't remember seeing it anywhere else, but I hadn't actually spent much time around deviants.

"So is RA9 supposed to be another deviant or a human?"

"I don't know," Connor says with a frown. It's a puzzle he wants to get to the bottom of, I can tell.

"I'll keep my eyes out for any mention," I tell him. This could be huge, and I'm not talking about stories. If there is someone out there who has the power to set androids free, we might have some kind of civil war on our hands. Despite being human, I find myself wanting to root for the androids.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: **(3/19/20) Hello all! I hope you are well and safe during this terrifying time. I know it's so uncertain and frightening all over the world right now. My state in the U.S. was one of the last to get the virus, but the first person in my county was tested positive just today, so the panic is only going to get worse... The library I work at is shut down though we're still expected to come into work. It's chaos, and I feel for everyone, especially those who are having trouble finding the bare necessities at stores right now or are expected to come into work or don't have sick time. I send you all the positive vibes!

Here are two more chapters. I'm playing Detroit for the first time in ages tonight and it's helping soothe my anxiety a little.

* * *

**36 Detroit 11.6.2038 **

**1:30 am **

**Connor**

The interrogation was more difficult than I'd expected. It required a balance of scare tactics and understanding that left me feeling exhausted. It was clear Carlos Ortiz had abused his android. It'd had cigarette burn marks along one arm, and it had taken a beating with a baseball bat when its owner had attacked it. I'd followed the evidence to the conclusion that the android had grabbed a knife to defend itself. But the multiple stab wounds went far beyond simple self-defense. It had been a shock to find the deviant hiding in the attic, but it had told me during the interrogation that it hadn't known where else to go. It had nearly self-destructed in the interrogation room as one of the officers had tried to take it back to its cell, but I had intervened. Much to the annoyance of one of the less friendly detectives.

My reception hadn't been a friendly one. I'd very nearly gotten off on the wrong foot with the Lieutenant who had been assigned the case tonight. Hank Anderson had made his dislike for androids apparent the second I had walked into the bar he'd been drinking at. Amanda had informed me of the case and had asked me to locate the detective in charge. Lieutenant Anderson had not been what I was expecting, but I think we parted on good terms tonight. Or at least better terms. He seemed to approve of my conclusions at the crime scene, and I had located the deviant when the police would have missed it altogether. I'd been surprised that the Lieutenant had allowed me to interrogate the deviant, but I could read its stress levels in a way no human could.

My thoughts kept going back to the figurine I'd found in the shower stall and the writing on the walls. RA9. The android had seemed absolutely sure RA9 would set them free. As it had left the interrogation room, it had whispered something to me. _The truth is inside_. I had no idea what it meant or why it had told me that.

It had been different working without Clara. I'd grown used to her enthusiasm and compassion. I doubt she would have gotten anything out of the android tonight because she would never have raised her voice to it, but maybe she would have won its trust. I promised to keep her updated on the case as much as I can before we parted ways tonight, but I'm not sure what's next. I'll report my findings to Amanda in the morning, and I can see if she knows anything about RA9.

My thoughts stray back to the android. I'd been truthful with it when it had asked what was going to happen to it. There was no use lying, but I couldn't help but feel guilty for not staying quiet in the attic where I'd found it. It had pleaded with me, but I had turned it over to the police with only a second of hesitation. The abuse it had suffered at the hands of its owner had been shocking, and I find I have no sympathy for Carlos Ortiz.


	37. Chapter 37

**37 Detroit 11.6.2038 **

**Abandoned Apartment, Acre Ave **

**Clara**

_Detroit Today_ gets a tip about a deviant sighting Saturday morning as I'm putting in the final touches on an article. The intern drops the note on my desk as he walks past.

"Sounds like a job for the robot lover," he says, and I hear a snicker from somewhere across the room. He's just pissed he has to work on a Saturday.

"At least robots can take orders and keep their mouths shut," I say brightly, grabbing my coat and notepad. "I guess that would make you a deviant if you were an android," I shoot at the intern as I rush past.

These days I'm beginning to appreciate the company of androids over humans. Between my coworkers talking behind my back about my relationship with an android, my parents nagging me about working too much, Tony hovering over me like a mother duck, and my brother ignoring me more than usual, I miss the simplicity of working with Connor.

The tip leads me to an abandoned apartment building. The faded brown brick is covered in graffiti, and the roof and fire escape seem to be popular nesting places for pigeons. I'm just about to see about getting into the building when a car pulls up to the curb. I recognize it at once as Lieutenant Anderson's. Literally no one drives beaters like that around anymore, and I have to give him some respect for not following everyone else. Heavy metal blasts from inside, cutting off abruptly when the engine is turned off. Connor gets out of the passenger seat, and I can't help but smile brightly at the sight of him. He returns the smile, looking a little bemused.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

"I must have gotten the same tip as you," I say, nervously shoving my hands in my pockets as the lieutenant approaches. Cops have a tenuous relationship with the press, and I'm not sure he'll want me here.

"Gonna introduce me to your friend, Connor?" the lieutenant asks, giving me a quizzical look.

"This is Clara Weber. She works for Detroit Today. Clara, this is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He's been assigned all cases regarding deviants, and I'm working with him." I guess it's official now, but I smile at Hank.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I say, holding out my right hand. He takes it.

"I've read some of your articles," he says, and I can't tell if that's a good thing or not. "How exactly did you two meet?" He looks between the two of us.

"Clara was working undercover at a house where I was called in to investigate a murder," Connor explains.

"David Downs," I add, and Hank nods.

"Clara and I worked together," Connor tells Hank, a hint of pride in his voice. "We figured out who the murderer really was."

I still can't for the life of me tell how Hank feels about me. He's watching us with vague interest on his face like he can't quite figure out the dynamic between Connor and me.

"What are you hoping to accomplish here today?" he asks me.

It's a fair question. "I'm just trying to understand deviants, same as Connor," I say. "It's my job to write stories, but this has become so much more than that."

"You're really stirring the waters," Hank comments. "You really think you're going to change people's minds with your stories?"

"Maybe." I shrug. "I'm not really interested in changing their minds. I just want to tell the truth, and I want androids to be heard." I glance at Connor.

His brown eyes catch the sunlight looking achingly human. Most would argue androids don't have souls, but I could swear I see something reflecting back at me.

"Maybe the world needs someone like you telling the truths they don't wanna hear." Hank's response surprises me. I guess I didn't expect him to support what I'm writing, but it's a nice reminder that I'm not the only one who sees the injustices of our world. I suppose that's his job, but I also know a lot of cops turn a blind eye when it comes to violence against androids.

"Were you just planning on going in there and trying to interview the deviant?" Hank asks me.

"Yes?" It comes out more like a question, but that is exactly what I had planned on doing. It does sound kind of silly like I think I'm some kind of deviant whisperer.

Hank nods, a knowing look on his face. "Not every story is worth a risk. Deviants can be unpredictable."

"I know. But they also respond to compassion."

"Tell you what. We go in. We check the place out. Maybe the tip was phony, maybe the deviant's moved on. If he cooperates, I'll let you talk to him for a minute."

I bite my lip. If I had just come ten minutes before, I would have had full access to the building, but now I can either argue with Hank or respect his authority. Considering he may now be my link to Connor and deviants, I decide it's a good idea to stay on his good side.

"All right," I concede. Both Connor and Hank look a little surprised as if they were expecting me to argue.

"Okay. Great." Hank glances between Connor and me before saying, "Let's go, Connor."

I stand on the sidewalk, watching them enter the building. The door is unlocked, and I realize with a start that it's not abandoned after all. Weak light strains from behind curtains in an upstairs window. There are no other signs of life, and it's as if the landlord has simply given up on the building.

Waiting is not my strong suit. I think about following after them despite my word, but I don't want to get in the way. I don't know Hank, and I don't know how he'd respond to me tagging along after he explicitly asked me to stay outside. I circle the building thinking to find the window to the apartment. The tip said top floor.

I skirt along the side of the alley, stepping over garbage and trying not to recoil when a rat scurries away with a half-eaten sandwich in its mouth. I'm still working my way to the back of the building when I hear a shout somewhere above. I look up and see someone leap from the rooftop of the apartment to the building beside it. A second later another figure follows. Connor. My heart leaps into my throat. Clearly the deviant isn't cooperating, but why does Connor have to chase him over rooftops? I'm running now, following the alley behind the buildings. I nearly trip over a fallen garbage can, my eyes aimed upwards where I can briefly see Connor take another daring leap. He's going to get himself killed.

My sneakers strike the concrete in quick succession, my legs pumping as quickly as they can go. I consider running to be more torture than a fun activity, but my fear for Connor pushes me faster.

An overhead train track cuts between the buildings, and I skid to a stop before running out into traffic below. I curse aloud as the cars go past until, finally, I can cross. I see Hank's car go flying past, following the chase down the road, and I cross over. Up above are some of the urban farms that have been established on rooftops to try to make Detroit greener. Hank's car skids to a halt two blocks ahead, and I see him race into the building. I hurry to catch up. I can't see Connor anymore, and I'm terrified for him. The deviant might be desperate enough to hurt him and, like me, Connor is prone to putting his job before his own safety. One misstep, and he could fall.

I reach the building and am about to race up the steps when someone hits the ground hard around the corner. I change my path, charging around the side of the building expecting to find Connor splayed out on the concrete. Instead I run straight into someone. I stumble back, catching myself before I fall. It's a man with a baseball cap pulled low over his face. I see the fear in his eyes, and somehow I know this is the deviant. We stare at each other for a long moment. There's desperation in his eyes. He wants to live. I find myself stepping aside, unblocking his path to freedom. It's the least I can do. He blinks, and then he's gone, running off across the street and into the shadows of the buildings beyond. I watch him go before running into the building and up to the top floor. I push through the doors to the roof to find Hank. My eyes must hold a question because he turns, nodding his head toward the edge of the roof. Connor stands there looking completely lost, his eyes on the street below, looking for the deviant. He turns as I walk out onto the roof. I can feel Hank watching us, but I don't care who sees as I run at Connor, throwing my arms around his torso and pressing my face into his shoulder. I don't say anything, just hold onto him. It takes him a moment to put his arms around me, but he gives me a little squeeze.

When I pull back, he's looking at me, brown eyes making a part of my heart melt. Instead of giving into that, I shout at him.

"Don't ever do that again!" He flinches at my words as if I struck him.

"I'm okay," he says tentatively.

"You were jumping off rooftops!"

A little smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. "As I recall, you've spent a little time jumping off roofs, too."

"Well, if you had fallen, I wouldn't have been able to catch you!" Ugh, how dare he use me as an example? It's nothing like that time. At least that's what I tell myself.

His smile slides as he realizes how angry I am. "I'm sorry I worried you," he says, sounding genuine. "That wasn't my intention."

"You aren't invincible, Connor," I tell him because I think he needs a reminder. "What would have happened if you had fallen?"

"I-" He hesitates here, and I realize he doesn't know what would happen.

"You don't know, do you?" I shake my head. "Maybe you don't think it matters, but it does."

He opens his mouth to speak, but suddenly I can't handle the emotions I'm feeling. I shake my head and turn away from him.

"Clara!" he calls after me, but I pass Hank and run back down the stairs. I was so scared for him, but he's so focused on his mission that he doesn't think of his own safety. He doesn't consider what it does to me to watch him put himself in danger. He's replaceable to CyberLife, but he's not replaceable to me.


	38. Chapter 38

**38 Detroit 11.6.2038 **

**3:42 pm **

**Urban Farms of Detroit, 265 Acre Ave **

**Connor**

I watch Clara run off, completely confused as to why she's running away from me.

"Well, that went well," Hank says. I glance at him, aware that I have a stupefied expression on my face. "What exactly is the relationship between you two?"

I focus on his words. "We're…we're friends," I tell him. It's odd using that word, but Clara is my friend—the first friend I ever made, in fact.

"Just friends?" Hank asks, his tone disbelieving.

"What more would we be?" I don't understand what he's getting at.

Hank shakes his head. "You have no idea, do you?"

I really don't, and I don't like this feeling of not understanding the situation. Human emotion is not something I'm programmed to feel, but I'm supposed to understand it to an extent. At least enough to interact with them in the course of my investigations. But a part of me knows what Clara and I have goes beyond any investigation.

Hank walks away from me too, and I'm left on the roof reflecting on my failure and on Clara's anger.

"What did you mean earlier?" I wasn't going to ask, but Hank has been driving in silence for the last ten minutes, and I can't get the thought out of my head.

"Huh?" Hank clearly hasn't been dwelling on this, and I regret bringing it up.

"When you said I have 'no idea'?"

Hank glances over at me. Our partnership started off rocky. He's not the easiest person to get along with, but I'd like to think we work well together, and he's certainly warmed up to me since I apologized for my behavior this afternoon at lunch. I think he was even grateful that I saved his life today on the rooftop when Rupert, the deviant, had pushed him over the edge, though he wouldn't put it into words. I'd failed my mission in order to save him, but I had hardly hesitated when faced with the choice of saving Hank or pursuing Rupert. Maybe, with time, I can count him as a friend too.

"You said Clara was a friend, but from what I saw today, she feels a little more strongly about you than just _friends_."

I think back to everything we've been through, to all our interactions. The way she looked at me when she knew we wouldn't be working together anymore, the way she saved my life Halloween night when she'd almost kissed me afterwards. My mind can't process all this. I'm not human. I don't feel what she does. I can't… Right?

"That's impossible," I tell Hank.

"For you, maybe," he says with a shrug. "Not for her."

I don't actually have a heart, but my pump regulator works a little faster.

"Shame," Hank continues. "She seems like a nice girl."

"I'm not programmed to feel emotions, Lieutenant," I remind him.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Then why did you pull me up instead of going after the deviant?" he asks.

"You're my partner," I tell him after a pause. "I didn't want to risk you falling."

"But you weren't programmed to do that," he prods the point, trying to understand.

I'm not sure I understand myself. "I was programmed to work harmoniously with humans as I said before. I didn't think letting you fall off the building would create any harmony between us."

He actually laughs at this, so I guess I've said the right thing. My mind is jumbled though, thoughts back to Clara, watching her run away from me after berating me for risking my life. Should I have run after her? I don't know what more I could have said. I don't know what she wants to hear. I can't promise I won't put my life at risk for my mission again. I'm programmed to do whatever it takes to accomplish my mission. And yet…and yet I failed today when I saved Hank instead of pursuing the deviant. That wasn't supposed to happen, and yet it had.

And now Hank is telling me Clara feels something more than friendship toward me. It shouldn't be possible. Humans don't feel that way toward androids. It would never work. True, some humans sought pleasure with escort androids, but that wasn't what this was. Clara and I had an emotional connection even if it was one sided. But was it one sided? I had felt worry and fear over her. I had felt happiness around her, and I enjoyed the time we spent together. But androids couldn't love. Love was a human emotion, and though perhaps deviants could emulate it, we couldn't really feel it.

I spend the rest of the ride back to the station trying to convince myself of this.


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: **I'm like bouncing up and down in my chair excited for this chapter. Enjoy. :)

**39 Detroit 11.7.2038 **

**1:47 am **

**Clara**

I fall asleep on the couch again—I do this at least twice a week—my book crumpled on the floor. I snatch it up, smoothing out the bent pages with a sigh. My house is actually pretty clean after the frenetic stress cleaning I partook of earlier. My adrenaline has finally stopped pumping after watching Connor's rooftop chase earlier in the day. It's not like I'm really one to talk considering I've literally fallen through a roof before—which he so graciously pointed out—but I still thought it was an unnecessary risk on his part. The deviant got away in the end anyway.

A knocking on my front door has my heart racing again. Who on earth would be knocking at this hour? I creep over to the front door and peer through the glass at the top. It's Connor.

He starts to walk away as if having second thoughts about this plan, and I hastily open the door. He turns at the sound of scraping locks.

"Connor?"

He gives me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry it's so late," he says. "I…I just needed someone to talk to."

"I was already awake. Come in." I shut the door after him. Connor hesitates in the doorway. "Do you want to sit?" I ask.

"Sure." He takes a seat on my couch, stiff, unsure. I sit next to him.

"What happened?" He looks completely unsettled, undone in a way I've never seen him before. He meets my gaze, LED blinking yellow for a few moments. His eyes are filled with emotion. Something changed tonight.

"Hank and I went out to investigate another murder involving a deviant," he begins. "At Eden Club downtown. It's a—"

"I know what it is." It's despicable, that's what it is.

Connor looks down at his hands, twisting them nervously. "A man got rough with an android. He killed her and the other android in the room strangled the man because she didn't want to be next."

"He had it coming." The words come out cold, harsh. Connor glances at me but doesn't say anything.

"I managed to track down the android who'd strangled him. She was with another android. They were in _love_." He says the word as if he doesn't believe in such a thing. My heart clenches just a little. "I had the chance to shoot them, but I didn't. I let them go. Hank seemed almost glad that I had, but it was my mission to bring them in or to stop them. I failed." His LED is yellow again, and I can tell how upset he is.

"Why didn't you shoot them?" I don't think he knows the answer, but he wants to.

He turns to look at me, eyes frantic, frightened. "I don't know. I just _couldn't_. They just wanted to be free. They wanted to be together. They didn't want to be used by humans anymore for their pleasure."

"You felt empathy for them."

"I'm not supposed to feel empathy." His voice rises, and I have never seen him so undone before.

"Connor." I move closer, and he turns his brown eyes on me. "There is nothing wrong with you." He looks so vulnerable in that moment. I know he feels like he failed. "You did the right thing." I can't stand to see him so sad, so miserable. His LED blinks yellow still, and I reach up a hand to touch it before I can think better of it. It's smooth under my fingertips, cold compared to his skin. He closes his eyes at my touch, lashes grazing his cheekbones. For a moment we sit like this, unmoving. His LED blinks yellow one more time and then fades to blue.

I move before I think through what I'm doing. I've wanted to do this since I saved his life Halloween night. Maybe even before that, but I know it's not something he can return, not something he can reciprocate. His eyes are still closed as I lean forward and press my lips softly to his. It only lasts a second before I pull back. His eyes flash open, pupils dilated, surprised.

I can't read the look he's giving me. He didn't kiss me back, but he didn't pull away in revulsion. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe there's no way he'll ever feel the same about me as I do for him. Maybe he can't—

The thought cuts off when he cups my cheek in his warm hand and kisses me back. My mind goes electric. I was not expecting this at all. It takes me a moment to respond. His kiss is feather soft, completely unsure and unpracticed. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced. I lean closer, resting a hand on his leg while I run the other through the hair at the nape of his neck. His other hand goes to my waist, incredibly gentle. I deepen the kiss, wanting more, wanting to show him what a kiss can really be. He responds in turn, and I'm pleased to find he's a quick learner.

My mind's still going completely haywire, the thought _Connor's kissing me_ running on repeat. I'm kissing an android and yet I've never felt more connected to anyone.

Androids don't need to breathe, but I'm completely out of breath when we break apart. I don't ever want to stop though. Connor's LED is blinking yellow in sporadic intervals, and he's breathing hard as if he really does need air. His eyes are wide, pupils still dilated. My cheeks are warm, my lips swollen.

"If this is how those deviants felt, then I understand why they wanted to be free," Connor says softly.

In response, I kiss him again. His fingers brush bare skin at my waist where my shirt has pulled up. It's the most exquisite sensation I've ever felt.

I lose track of time, melting into his touch as his thumb runs circles over the skin on my side. At one point he slides his fingers against mine, and I feel the cold sensation of his skin melting away. I open my eyes and see his hand is white—his true android form. His knuckles glow blue. It feels like an incredibly intimate gesture, like he's revealing the deepest part of himself to me.

"Androids can connect," he says softly. "Share thoughts and memories and feelings."

But we'll never be able to do that. He doesn't say this aloud, but I think he wishes he could share this with me. I weave my fingers between his, smooth white against my human skin.

I want him to know that doesn't matter to me. Our differences don't matter. I just want to be with him. That's enough for me. "We have all we need to connect," I tell him.

I rest my head on his shoulder, pulling my knees up so I'm nestled against him. He puts his arm around me, a little stiff at first before he gently rests his fingers on my hip. I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, I'm waking up alone. I check my phone and see that it's a little before 6 am. A pillow rests beneath my head and one of my throws is carefully arranged over me. The house is quiet, and I know Connor is gone. I hope he doesn't regret last night. I learned two things during our time together. One: I'm falling helplessly for him. And two: he might feel the same.


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: **Hi all. Hope you are well! I just wanted to give credit to a couple of poems I have Clara quoting in this chapter. _Fire and Ice_ and _Nothing Gold Can Stay_ by Robert Frost.

* * *

**40 Detroit 11.7.2038 **

**5:30 am **

**Connor**

I need to clear my head so I walk. I left Clara asleep, covering her with a blanket, watching her for a moment as I tried to sort out the mess in my head.

What we did was completely human. I wasn't programmed to feel. Wasn't programmed to give pleasure to humans. It was instinct. Instincts I'm not supposed to have. This can't go anywhere. Once I'm finished investigating deviants, I'll be sent back to CyberLife until my next mission comes up. I can't have a life like a human. I'd never even considered it before, but now that's all I can think of. What would it be like to not have a mission, to not have instructions, to think for myself? It's a frightening thought. It's not why I was created, and it isn't possible.

I should go back to CyberLife, but I find that I don't want to wait. I don't like waiting, and that's all I'll do until my next mission comes up. Rupert got away, so there's no one to interrogate, no new evidence to follow. I shouldn't leave without saying anything to Clara, but I'm also terrified to face her. What will she expect now? I don't know if she has the same doubts as me. A part of me knows she won't hold me to any expectations. She's always wanting me to think for myself. Last night I wasn't following any instructions. I felt so vulnerable and lost after the Eden Club. Seeing the two deviants in love like that—it was so genuine. Before I might have said it was just an error in their software, but though an error might cause an android to deviate, I wasn't sure any software could emulate organic emotions like that.

My feet trace their way back to Clara's house, but I stand for a long moment on the sidewalk before entering her house. I didn't realize I'd been out for so long. It's nearly seven, and I can see lights on in her house. She has a normal life, and I'm complicating it. I can't bring myself to walk away though. It wouldn't be fair to Clara, and it's not what I want. I shouldn't _want_ anything, but I want to walk back in through that door. So I do.

Clara is dressed, her hair damp, drying in waves against her shoulders. It's grown longer since we first met, less angled and perfect. She turns when I shut the door behind me, eyes lighting up. She's making tea, and I can smell the strong overtones of English Breakfast.

"I thought you'd left," she says. There's an uncertain note to her words. She thought I regretted last night.

"I just needed to take a walk. To think."

I see her expression fall, disappointment replacing her relief. "Look, Connor, about last night… I understand that it can't happen again. I don't want to get you into trouble with CyberLife. I know Amanda warned you away from me. I'm a distraction. But I also want you to know that I don't care that you're an android and I'm human. What I feel…it's genuine." She bites her lip and waits for me to speak.

I focus on what I'm feeling because I can't deny that I am feeling something. I feel warmth towards her. I feel safe and understood. I don't feel any of the judgement I feel when I interact with other humans. I'm not a deviant. I self-tested on my walk this morning just to be sure. I still have my instructions. I don't know how to define this.

"Me too," I finally say, deciding to lay down all my cards, to open up rather than close off. "I—I don't know what it means. I don't know how it would work, but I feel something for you, something that I'm not programmed to feel."

I watch her eyes light up again, a shy smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. It astonishes me that I can make her so happy and I'm surprised to find she makes me happy, too. "I don't know how...how this all works." Relationships, love. It's not in my programming at all. I don't know what's expected. I don't know what can happen between us.

"We can take this slow" she says. "No one needs to know besides the two of us. We don't have to call it anything. I just like being near you." She takes a step closer and then another before sliding her palm under mine and bringing it up so that they are pressed together between us. I wish I could connect to her. I've only done it with a few androids—those at the Eden Club who might have seen the deviant's escape route—and that didn't mean anything. It was just to get information. With Clara, I want to connect to her, share my feelings, my thoughts. On instinct, I fade my skin to the pearly white beneath. Clara doesn't flinch away. I think she understands that I'm trying to bare a part of me to her. I might not have a soul, but if I did, I would want to share it with her.

I close my eyes, concentrating on the feel of her skin against mine, her pulse tapping lightly in her veins. I feel her other hand touch my cheek, cupping my jaw as she leans up to press her forehead to mine. I lean down to meet her, and we stand like that for a long minute, not needing to say anything but hearing each other all the same.

"Are you investigating today?" she asks, pulling away. I open my eyes. She's still close, and I can count the freckles on her nose, see the bits of lighter blue around the edges of her irises.

"I haven't gotten any instructions," I tell her. "No new leads since last night."

"I have to confess something," Clara says. "Yesterday, when you were chasing the deviant on the rooftop, I ran into him on the street. He'd somehow scaled down the building. I could have stopped him or called for help or something, but I let him go." She winces a little as if she expects me to be angry with her.

I'm not really surprised by her confession. Maybe a little surprised she didn't try to get his story, but I think what started out as her job has turned into her passion. It's not about getting the story but about seeing androids get the justice she thinks they deserve.

"I think…I think the situation is more complicated than I first thought," I admit. "Last night at the Eden Club, those deviants… I had the chance to shoot them more than once, but I didn't take it. I hesitated because I wasn't sure shooting them was the right thing to do anymore. One of them strangled a man to death, but she was just trying to defend herself. She didn't want to die."

"Anyone who goes to the Eden Club for fun is a sick bastard," Clara says vehemently. "That's the worst kind of subjugation, forcing androids to provide that service to humans. You did the right thing. Killing them wouldn't have solved anything." Her words hearten me, and I feel a little less guilty for not succeeding in my mission.

"If I don't make progress in this case soon, I might be replaced." It's a fear that has taken hold of late. Before, I might have understood, but now I want to live. I don't want to be decommissioned, torn apart so they can see why I failed. I'd made a choice last night, and it wasn't because of a software glitch.

"Replaced? What does that mean?" There's a note of alarm in Clara's voice.

"It means I would be shut down and another android would take my place."

The blood drains from her face, and I regret bringing up the topic. "They can't do that." There's little conviction to her words. She knows they can. "Connor, you have to save yourself before something like that happens." Her words are pleading now. "Can you…can you deviate? Do you even want to?" She doesn't want to push me, but I can tell she wants me to give it all up, leave CyberLife, stay safe and alive.

"It's not that easy. I'm…I'm not sure that's a good idea. Deviants still present a threat if they choose to rise up against humans."

"They have every right!" Clara says, eyes glowing with the conviction of her words.

"People would get hurt if that happened. I need to continue my investigations." I still believe I need to put a stop to deviants. Civil war isn't going to solve anything.

Clara studies me a moment then nods. "I know," she says softly. "I know."

I don't have to report in just yet. I should, but it can wait. Clara convinces me to spend the day with her, though it doesn't require much convincing. It's Sunday, so Clara doesn't have to work. I've never just spent time with a human like this with no specific purpose, no instructions. Clara rolls her eyes at me and tells me this is what a normal day off looks like and that I need to try it sometime.

"You don't always have to have a purpose," she tells me. "Everyone needs a day to rest, to recuperate."

She asks me what I want to do, and I look around her living room with no idea of what I can do. She wants me to think for myself, and I want to as well, but this is new to me. It doesn't come naturally.

She has rows upon rows of books, and I trail my fingers over them as she describes the plots of her favorites. She likes fantasy and anything with moral dilemmas and characters fighting for justice. I love watching her talk, the way her eyes brighten and her words trip over each other as she explains something she's passionate about. She blushes when she realizes she's rambling, but I could listen to her talk for hours.

"There is something about the feel of real paper," I say, gently taking a book from the shelf. I can tell she's read this one a lot. The pages are browned and crinkled and there's tape on the spine keeping the edges of the cover from tearing further. I remember back to Rupert's apartment and the paper books that Hank had been looking at. I remember he had a bookshelf full of them in his house, too, when I'd gone to collect him to investigate the Eden Club.

"How are you liking working with Hank?" Clara asks me as I flip through the book.

I consider the question. "It was difficult at first," I tell her honestly. "Lieutenant Anderson has a lot of personal issues and he doesn't have a high opinion of androids, but we work together well. I think he's changed his opinion at least a little."

"It's kind of hard not to like you," Clara says with a shrug. "And from what I could see, I think Hank likes you."

"I did save his life on the roof. The deviant pushed him over during a struggle, and I pulled Hank back up. He seemed grateful."

Clara is smiling at me. "Well, I would think so. You let the deviant escape to save him."

"It didn't seem right to leave him hanging there."

"I never got the chance to ask—did you find anything more when you were investigating?"

"The deviant had drawn mazes all over the walls of his apartment and written the word RA9 over and over."

"RA9 again, huh?" Clara looks pensive, leaning against the back of her couch. I shelve the book again and turn to face her. She's trying to puzzle it all out.

"I found the deviant, Rupert's, journal but it was encrypted."

"Do you still have it?" Clara asks eagerly.

I shake my head. "I turned it over to DPD for evidence. There's a chance only Rupert has the cipher."

"Anything else? Was he there when you got there or did he show up later?"

"He was hiding in the ceiling. He heard us coming. I think we interrupted him writing RA9. It's like an obsession—a compulsion."

"What if RA9 isn't an android but a software glitch? What if it's what causes androids to deviate? It could present itself like a virus and cause compulsive behavior like that."

"It's possible." I weigh her theory. It certainly has merit. "He was also obsessed with birds. He was taking care of hundreds of pigeons."

"That's a human trait—caring for animals like that. Just another sign that deviants aren't dangerous. They're just trying to make a life for themselves."

"I traced the clues and realized he was still in the apartment. He jumped me and that's when the chase started." I was hesitant to bring that up again, but Clara doesn't seem angry with me anymore.

"He wasn't doing anyone any harm though."

I know what Clara's getting at. "No, but others have."

"Out of self-defense. Tell me, have you had any case so far where a deviant has attacked a human out of pure aggression?"

I don't want to argue with her—not today—so I pick my words carefully. "I can't speak for every deviant out there, Clara. But…not so far in my investigations."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I just…the more involved I get with this, the more I hear their stories, see their plights, the more I sympathize with them. I'm afraid of how this all might end, and I don't want you to get hurt." She pushes off from the couch, taking a step closer before pausing again, hesitant. I can tell she's afraid of pushing me past my limits. I confess I'm nervous about this, about us and what it means. But I don't want to push her away. I close the space between us, and Clara wraps her arms around me, her warm body against mine. This time I don't hesitate before returning the gesture. It's still foreign to me, but not as much as before. Instead, it feels a little closer to natural. It feels right.

"Do you want to go out somewhere?" Clara asks, her voice muffled against the side of my neck. "I still have the clothes you picked out. No one would recognize you…" She trails off as if she thinks it's a bad idea.

"What did you have in mind?" I feel her lips spread into a smile. They're soft and warm against my skin. The sensation shoots sparks through my circuitry. It's the closest I've ever felt to being alive.

"Have you ever been to a library before?" Clara asks, pulling her head back so she can meet my eyes.

"I haven't."

"Well, if you like my books, you'd really like the books in the library. A lot of them have gone completely digital, but there's still a couple that have regular paper books. They have this special collection that you have to get permission to look at, but fortunately I happen to have permission to look at those books. I was kind of a nerd in college and did a lot of extracurricular studying," she explains. "The clothes are upstairs in my closet."

I head upstairs. I've never been up here before, and I find Clara's bedroom on the right. It's moderately messy with some clothes strewn across the bed and books piled on the nightstand and floor. I slide the closet open and see my clothes hanging neatly on the far side. I change into them, sliding the hat over my LED.

Clara has bundled up in a coat and scarf, car keys clasped in one hand. "Ready?" She's excited, and I feel an edge of excitement, too.

We get into her car and she drives to one of the older parts of the city where buildings have been restored to their former glory. The library is a thick, square edifice. Clara parks, and we get out, the November air biting, though the cold doesn't affect me. Clara shivers, and I reach out to take her hand in mine. She smiles at me, sliding her fingers between mine.

I'm nervous as we enter the building, so sure that someone will spot me for what I am. Clara walks up to the desk to greet the librarian working there. "Hi, Rhonda. Long time no see."

"Clara, honey!" I scan the woman's face out of habit. Rhonda Carlson. She's been a librarian here for thirty-six years. "We missed you. I've been saving all your articles."

"Aw, thanks," Clara says, the edges of her ears reddening slightly. I can tell she's touched.

"Has life been treating you well?" Rhonda inquires. She glances at me, a question in her eyes.

"It's been interesting lately," Clara tells her. "But good on the whole. This is Connor," she introduces me. "We were hoping to look at the special collection."

"Of course! Anything for you." She gives us a wink and skirts around the desk leading us to a glass door. She pulls a key from the lanyard around her neck and unlocks the door, pulling it open for us. "Take your time and just let me know when you're done so I can lock up."

"Thanks, Rhonda." Lights flicker on as we enter the room. "Some libraries have to keep really rare books in climate-controlled rooms. These aren't quite that old, but they date back to before CyberLife. Before androids. It's like a whole different world," she tells me.

I take in all the books with their worn and frayed covers. The room smells a little musty, but I find it doesn't bother me.

"Have you ever read Robert Frost?" Clara asks, pulling a thick volume from one of the shelves. I shake my head. I haven't read any of these. I can analyze a book and learn about the author and the general themes within, but it's not the same as actually reading it.

Clara sets the book down on the table in the center of the room, pulling out a chair. I sit next to her as she begins to thumb through the pages. "His poems are mostly about nature. It's refreshing. It takes you away from humanity for a time, focuses on something simpler. But some of his poems also expose the dark sides of humanity. People are destructive. Just look at what we've done to the Earth after all this time."

She pauses on one of the poems. Finger skimming across the words, she reads aloud. "'Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire, but if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.' Hate and desire—two of humanity's most destructive traits. I think ice might win this round." She flips to another page as I contemplate the poem.

"'Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; but only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, so dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.'"

She doesn't explain this one, so I try my hand at it. "Gold represents beauty, perfection," I say slowly, working out the poem's meaning. "Which is temporary. It doesn't last."

Clara nods. "Humans are always striving for perfection because they don't see the beauty in imperfection. They think they can find a way to make it last forever. They're in for disappointment though."

We read a few more poems, Clara introducing me to other classics like Keats and Thoreau, Shakespeare, Poe and Dickinson. There are so many, and each has their own style. Some are plainer than others, but some require working through. My mind is challenged. It's like a puzzle, and it takes everything I know of humans and a little hint here and there from Clara to decipher their meaning. I don't realize that several hours have passed until Clara's stomach growls.

"Lunch time for me, I think," she says. We carefully replace the books. They lay scattered across the tables like a Rorschach ink blot. My fingertips are stained with ink from running my fingers over word after word, and my head is filled with lines. I have the ability to memorize anything I see, and I stuff my head to the brim with odes and sonnets. Clara says there's a cafe a few blocks away that serves lunch, and I'm content to keep her company even if I don't need to eat.

"I like poetry," I tell Clara as we leave the library.

"I thought you might," she says with a smile. "They're kind of like mysteries that require a little bit of solving."

"Do you ever write poetry of your own?" I ask. Clara is a talented writer from what I've read of her articles, but that's all I've read of hers.

"Uh, not really since college. I dabbled a bit, but I didn't think any of them were that great."

"I'd like to read one. I mean, if it's okay." She looks embarrassed. I don't want to press, but I can't imagine any words she writes are anything less than beautiful.

She laughs. "I'll see what I can dig up. Do not ever mention their existence to Tony though. He thinks poetry is for softies."

"How long have you known Tony?" They seem close like family. Clara rarely mentions her own family, and I know things are tense between her and her brother.

"Ever since I was an intern at _Detroit Today_. He was already working there, and he sort of took me under his wing. He saw something in me. He's always looking out for me, and I don't appreciate it enough. He was there a lot for me when things were rough with my family."

"You said your dad was in an accident? I don't mean to pry." I expect her to pull away, but she doesn't.

"You're not prying. I was thirteen when it happened, my brother seventeen. I had been staying over at a friend's house but we got in an argument, and I called my dad to have him come pick me up. There was a really bad storm that night, and my friend lived on the other side of town. When he was on the freeway, another driver swerved into the other lane. They hit my dad's car and it flipped. My dad suffered a spinal injury and is paralyzed from the waist down. He couldn't keep working and the medical bills were really expensive. My mom had to go back to work, and my brother couldn't go to the college he wanted. He blamed me at the time because I'm the one who called my dad. He was out driving because of me. I blamed myself for a long time, too, even though I know now it wasn't my fault. The other driver thought they saw something in the road, and my dad was in their blindspot. He offered to pay for some of my dad's medical bills. It was hard though. We struggled, and my brother pulled away. We said some things to each other that we shouldn't have. It was the scariest few weeks of my life when my dad was in ICU, barely clinging to life. He really bounced back though. Now he sells his inventions for other people with handicaps who don't want to rely on androids to take care of them."

"He sounds like an inspiring person."

"He is. I can't imagine being that optimistic after going through that," Clara says. "I tend to be more of a glass half-empty kind of person." She looks down at her feet, shuffling her boots through the auburn and vermillion leaves. It makes a swooshing sort of noise that has a calming effect. I'm not usually this relaxed. My mind is always working, trying to piece together clues and solve the mystery of deviancy. Right now my thoughts are calm, in the present.

"Sometimes it can be hard to look on the bright side," I test the words. I've never considered whether I'm optimistic or pessimistic, but I've seen a lot of darkness in my time in this world. I want to think things will get better, but I don't know how the future will play out. People are beginning to fear androids as more and more deviate, but I can't help but remember the desperation in the eyes of the two deviants at the Eden Club, how they just wanted to be free, to be together.

"It's easier when you're around," Clara says, glancing up at me. Her cheeks color at her words, a smile touching the corner of her mouth. I smile back at her. The motion, once mechanical and stiff, now feels natural. Clara's shoulder bumps my arm as she moves closer, and I have never felt so human. I look at the people around us. What do they see when they look at us? A normal couple? Two humans enjoying their day? If I were to take off this hat, everything would change.

We're passing an abandoned parking lot when I see it. It's proof that whatever this is between Clara and me will never work. I hesitate a second, long enough for Clara to notice.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Nothing," I try to move on, but she's craning her neck, looking into the parking lot.

"What's that?" She steps inside, and I have no choice but to follow her. She's curious like me, so I should know by now that there's no stopping her.

She reaches the brick wall that backs the lot and reads the words that have been painted in bold black letters. Drip marks run down as if the vandal had been in a hurry.

_DEATH TO ANDROIDS_ the words read. They elicit a gasp from Clara, but then I realize she isn't looking at the words but what lies below, half-hidden behind some old, metal trash bins. Clearly the android has been there for a long time. It's rusted and pale, drained of any color, of any life. Its head has been bashed in, and I can see wiring and circuitry inside.

Clara puts a hand over her mouth and backs up into me. I wrap my arms around her, but there's nothing I can do to protect her. The world that looked so bright only minutes ago has taken on a greyish hue, and clouds roll in threatening rain.

"I will _never_ let that happen to you," Clara says, her words coming out breathy, adamant. She grips my hands where they rest against her ribcage, and now it's her protecting me. I don't tell her that unlike most androids, I can defend myself, I can fight back. Instead, I let her grip my hands as thunder rumbles in the distance; I let her stand between me and those hateful words, and I do feel safe.


	41. Chapter 41

**41 Detroit 11.8.2038**  
**4:16 pm**  
**Stratford Tower, Floor 79**

**Connor**

I haven't stopped fiddling with my quarter since I left Clara yesterday evening. After finding the android in the abandoned parking lot, I had taken her home. She hadn't said much, subdued and upset over the spray-painted message and the dead android. I'd made her a cup of tea and a sandwich, using knowledge I didn't know I'd been programmed with. Admittedly the sandwich had looked a little deflated, but it had brought a smile to Clara's face when I'd handed the plate to her.

We'd spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch watching an old comedy show about cops in Brooklyn. I didn't understand all the humor or references, but it also distracted us from what we had seen. I knew Clara felt powerless. She wanted to change the world with her stories, but the world wasn't ready to change and, poignant as her words were, they weren't enough. The words of the deviant who'd hijacked the news station earlier today might be though…

"You're starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor," Hank says, snatching the coin from my hand and startling me from my thoughts.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," I say. One thing I've learned about Hank is that he can run hot or cold. One minute he seems to be actually quite tolerant of me. The next he's shoving me against a wall and threatening to set me on fire. It certainly keeps things interesting. After I pulled him up from the edge of the roof after chasing the deviant, Rupert, he seems to have warmed up to me more. I don't know if I'd call us friends yet, but he hasn't been openly hostile toward me since.

I've decided I enjoy working with him. It's very different than working with Clara, who is always eager and curious. Hank is difficult to please, but he'd seemed genuinely impressed when I'd found Carlos Ortiz's android. I'd worried he would be angry when I let the two deviants escape at the Eden Club, but he actually seemed to approve of what I'd done. I thought he hated androids, but I've seen him show compassion for them, too.

"You ever talk to that girl of yours?" Hank asks, and if I'd still been fiddling with my quarter, I would have dropped it. My LED flashes yellow briefly, and I'm glad I'm on his right where he can't see it.

"She's not _my_ girl," I correct although I like the way that sounds—not an indication of ownership or possession, but a person who means a lot to me.

"Whatever." I can tell Hank is curious, but he doesn't want to act like he cares.

"We did talk." That's the most basic version of the story, but I'm not sure I'm ready to open up to Hank about Clara. I don't know how he'd react.

"Did you break her heart?" He casts me a look, and I frown, furrowing my brow.

"No." The word comes out defensive. "We…we worked things out."

"Huh." I don't think Hank believes that's all to the story, but fortunately the elevator comes to a halt before he can drill me further.

We've reached the 79th floor of Stratford Tower where a deviant just broadcasted a message on Channel 16 News after hijacking the floor. Its message was one of peace, but it has the country rattled. The humans took it as a warning, a precursor to a revolution, an uprising of androids. No one was hurt in the incident, but people are scared. It's not only DPD but the FBI who are investigating, and I realize deviation has climbed to the next level. It's not just small news anymore.

We step out of the elevator as Officer Miller comes up to greet us and give us a briefing. I follow, listening while my eyes take in everything around us. There isn't much evidence. The deviants knocked out the security guards rather than kill them. I look up and notice a security camera above the door. The cameras had to have caught the deviants' approach unless they'd somehow hacked into the system.

As we enter the broadcast room, Officer Miller introduces Hank to the FBI agent in charge. He seems to know Hank or of his past, but it's not a friendly exchange. I introduce myself, but there's nothing but disdain on Special Agent Perkins's face when he glances at me.

I think of Clara and how she would have reacted to Perkins, and it brings a smile to my face as I turn away to investigate. I bring up the video and play the first part. The android on the screen is asking for freedom, for equality. I pause and scan its face, taking in the details.

It had turned its skin off for the broadcast. I note the mismatched eyes, the right one blue—a spare—while the left is a golden green. Three other figures are reflected in the left, and I know it wasn't alone. Then I scan for its model number. **RK200****prototype**. RK? This deviant is in the RK series as well, but I thought I was a unique model. Was Amanda lying when she told me this? The android was gifted to a Carl Mansfield by Elijah Kamski himself and is called 'Markus.'

When Hank asks if I've found something, I hesitate. I tell him that I discovered the android's model and serial number, but I don't mention that it's part of the same RK series as I am. Hank seems to realize I'm not telling him everything, but I move on, inspecting the CCTV footage. The four androids are clearly recorded in it, approaching the door, guns in hand.

"They didn't break in?" I ask, surprised.

Officer Miller shakes his head, telling me there was no sign of forced entry. When I mention the cameras, Hank suggests they didn't check them with a shrug of his shoulder. I'm not so sure about this and Officer Miller mentions the station androids who are currently in the kitchen. I want to question them, but I need to finish searching this room. As I move past one of the police officers near the edge of the room, he says my name.

"Connor?" I turn to face him as he continues to speak. "You remember me? I was on the terrace… That android that took the little girl hostage? I was shot. You saved me…"

I think back to that night, remember tying my necktie around his arm to staunch the bleeding. "I remember you."

"I could have died on that terrace, but you saved my life… I never thought I'd say this to an android, but…thank you."

He sounds truly grateful, and I nod at him before continuing on. I'm glad I took the time to save him. I know Clara would tell me I showed empathy, and maybe I did. Maybe it is possible to show empathy without being a deviant.

I work my way around the room taking in the station android cap and the bullet holes decorating the walls. Officer Miller had said that a station worker had gotten away to alert the authorities. He was in shock but unharmed. It looks as if one of the androids was harmed, however. There are traces of blue blood on the floor, still fresh. It's splattered on the wall as well, and I take a sample. **PL600** **#501 743 923** reported missing February 16th, 2036. I decide to check the roof before questioning the station androids in the kitchen. The trail of blood leads up the stairs, and there's a hand print on the wall beside the doorway. Hank follows me up, and I think I see him quickly pocket my quarter as if he'd been playing with it a moment before.

Apparently the androids jumped from the building using parachutes. We find the bag abandoned on the rooftop, but one of the parachutes remains. It appears that one of the deviants was left behind. I move to the edge of the roof where the footprints lead. There are only three sets of prints besides the prints of the officers and agents investigating. The metal of the railing is cold under my hand as I gaze over. I'm brought back to the night of the hostage situation, to the terrace where the deviant balanced precariously with the little girl. He'd been so close to dropping her, and I realize that night could have gone very differently if I hadn't been able to convince him to let her go. A rush of vertigo sends me stumbling back, LED flashing yellow a moment. The rush of fear is unfamiliar and unwanted. I'm not supposed to be afraid of human things like heights.

I shake the thought away, retracing my steps to where a spot of blue blood marks the wall. There are traces leftover, splatters that lead in a trail. The deviant might still be here. I follow the trail, weaving my way around the rooftop. The snow is falling, and it covers any footprints that might have been there. The splattering leads to a storage unit, and a hand print decorates the front, a dead giveaway. I reach out and open the door.

The deviant has a gun. That's the first thing I notice. His LED is bright red, and he starts shooting. I trip backwards, barely avoiding being shot, and Hank runs forward to grab me, dragging me to cover while firing off two shots.

"You have to stop them!" I tell him as the cops on the roof begin to shoot at the deviant. "If they destroy it, we won't learn anything!" It's the best lead we have so far. I can't let another deviant slip through my hands.

"We can't save it. It's too late!" Hank insists. "We'll just get ourselves killed!"

I think for a second, but I can't listen to Hank on this one. I need that deviant alive. I leap to my feet before Hank can react, rushing out toward the deviant. I dodge four bullets, leaping over the metal barrier between us and grabbing the deviant's left arm. I grasp his right wrist to keep the gun pointed away from me. My mind merges with his as I probe his memories. I get one clear image, some sort of rusty metal with a word painted in bold white letters. **Jericho**. The memory cuts off abruptly as the deviant manages to push the gun up under his chin. I feel a surge of fear the second before he pulls the trigger—fear of death, of what comes after. It's similar to Laura's death, the sensation that took over my mind. Blue blood splatters, and I stagger back, the deviant slumping to the ground. All I can do is stare at his body, my artificial breaths coming out quickly.

"Connor! Connor you all right? Connor!" I hear Hank calling my name, but I can't move, I'm in shock, the deviant's last moments replaying through my head on repeat.

"Okay," I finally manage, my voice coming out croaky.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," I repeat. I'm not physically hurt, but I hurt all the same.

Hank sighs in frustration. "Jesus! You scared the shit outta me. For fuck sake, I told you not to move! Why do you never do what I say?" He was worried about me. Worried I might die. I barely process this.

"I was connected to its memory. When it fired…I felt it _die_…" My voice is high-pitched with fear. I can't calm my racing pump regulator. "Like I was dying. I was _scared_." I trip over that last word. It's the first time I've ever admitted to anyone that I felt such a human emotion. Hank is watching me, concern clearly written on his face. My LED fades down to yellow as I concentrate on what's important here. "I saw something, in its memory…a word…painted on a piece of rusty metal…'Jericho'."

"Does that have any significance to you?" Hank asks.

I shake my head. "No." But it's something. It's more than we had before. I glanced back down at the body of the android, its lifeless LED. The question dominating my mind is: was it worth it?


	42. Chapter 42

**42 Detroit 11.8.2038**  
**4:32 pm**  
**Stratford Tower**

**Clara**

I practically race up to the Stratford Tower building. Tony is already there, waiting outside with the rest of the press. It's snowing huge flakes now, and I'm glad I'm wearing my hat pulled down over the tips of my ears.

"Sorry," I pant. "I was out following a story."

"A story bigger than this?" Tony asks, lifting an eyebrow.

I'd returned to the abandoned parking lot that Connor and I had passed the day before, taking photos of the android before looking for more like him. It took some tips from a couple of homeless guys and the owner of a convenience store, but I was able to track down four more androids. The same message had been written above the scenes. _**DEATH TO ANDROIDS. **_I'm writing up a story on it because people need to know this is happening. I haven't pitched the idea to Horowitz yet because I'm afraid he's not going to consider it big news, and maybe it isn't, but it's the small things that add up. Crimes like this can be easy to get away with, easy to sweep under the rug. I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen.

"So what do we know?" I wonder if Connor is here and realize I've missed half of what Tony has said. He notices, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

"Earth to Clara. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sorry. So you said deviants broke in and recorded a message?"

"Where have you been, Clara?" Tony asks with a sigh. "It's all over the news."

"I wasn't checking my phone." It's a lame excuse. I pull out my phone now and watch the recording of the deviant's speech. He speaks of equal rights, of freedom, of the end of segregation. I want to start cheering. "They're asking for their freedom."

"No one was injured, but the deviants got in with no real resistance. People are freaking out."

"It's not like he asked for anything unfair," I defend.

Tony blinks at me, mouth slightly agape. "That's not the point. Clara, these androids were created by humans to serve humans. It doesn't matter if it's right or wrong. They exist, and now they're becoming sentient. They're deviating and asking for equal rights. This is going to be a fucking nightmare. People aren't going to know what to do."

He has a point. It's not right to enslave androids who want to be free, but it's not going to be an overnight change. Even if humans did agree to free the androids, how did you integrate them into society? There was no way everyone was going to be supportive.

"Humans created androids. It's their problem to deal with—"

"Don't you mean _our_ problem?" Tony cuts in. "You're talking like you're one of them. Maybe you're spending too much time around Connor."

"Is he here?" I crane my neck, trying to see past the barricades and into the building.

"Probably." I can feel Tony's eyes on me and look back at him.

"What?"

"You've got it so bad for him." His voice is resigned but not judgmental, not angry.

I try to play it cool, but my cheeks blush traitorously. "I have no idea what you mean."

"I'm right, aren't I?" Tony shakes his head. "_Clara_." The way he says my name makes me feel like a child. "Clara, where do you think it's going to go? Even if he could feel the same way, you can't be together. That's not how this world works."

I know what he's saying is the truth, but it still stings. "Just let me have this, Tony," I tell him. "Maybe things will change. Maybe we can be together…"

"I don't want you to get hurt, Clara."

"It's too late, Tony," I tell him, giving him a sad smile. "I'm already falling hard for him, so no matter what happens, it's going to hurt."

Tony looks down at his shoes. "Shit. Clara, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you felt so strongly. I thought…thought maybe it was just an attraction that would pass."

"It's not. Tony, I don't feel this way about people. I've never had good luck forming attachments, but Connor is different. I don't care that he's not human. I don't care that the world thinks he's below us. I see past all that. It's _because_ of that that I'm…that I feel this way."

Tony's expression hardens, and I think I might be in for another verbal lashing. Instead, he says, "Then we'll find a way. _You'll_ find a way. It's completely unconventional, but who the hell cares about conventional these days? If you really like him, then I'm not gonna stop you."

"Just everyone else." I give him a wry smile.

"Does he know?"

I nod. "I don't know exactly what he's feeling or if he can even feel, but I think he feels the same as me. He's just trying to figure out who he is and how he fits in this world while keeping up with his investigations. If CyberLife found out he was…feeling things, spending more time with me…they'd decommission him. Shut him down and take him apart to see what went wrong."

"Is he a deviant?" Tony says the word 'deviant' so softly that I can barely hear him.

I shake my head. "I don't think so. His actions are so human sometimes, but he swears he's not a deviant. He's afraid to deviate, afraid to go against CyberLife."

Tony glances above my shoulder and nods. "There he is."

I turn and see Connor leaving the building with Hank. By the way my heart leaps straight out of my chest the moment I see him, I know I'm in trouble. He looks troubled though his LED is blue. From what I can see, his eyes look haunted. Hank guides him through the crowds like an overprotective parent.

"Go," Tony says with a sigh. "I've got this."

I know I should stay. I should get the story, do my job. Instead, I weave through the people, making my way to Connor. Hank sees me first and touches Connor's arm to get his attention, nodding toward me. Connor meets my eyes, and I can tell something is wrong. Hank rests against the side of the car while Connor walks over to me. We're far enough from the building that we can talk in relative peace. No one besides Hank is paying the least bit of attention anyway, and he's pretending to be enthralled by the crowds as the press rapid fire questions at the police and FBI.

"Connor, are you okay?" I ask. I reach forward and touch his arm. It's a subtle gesture, but I know I shouldn't risk even that. I do anyway, needing to touch him, to comfort him.

His eyes are warm as they meet mine, but he shakes his head, a contradiction to the words that follow. "I'm okay. I'm not hurt."

"But something happened."

"One of the deviants got left behind because he was injured. I tracked his blue blood and found him. I managed to access his memories, but then he shot himself while I was still connected to him."

I put a hand over my mouth. This happened with Laura when Bryony Downs forced her to self-destruct in the jail cell. "You felt him die."

"I felt like I was dying again. With Laura, it was frightening, but she was under orders. She wasn't a deviant. With this android…it was a hundred times worse. I was so terrified." His LED is yellow, and I reach up to cup his jaw in both my hands. I don't care if anyone's watching. Snow dots his shoulders and darkens his hair as it melts. It flutters down between us, but for once I don't feel cold.

"I'm so sorry," I tell him.

I watch his LED fade back to blue. He's comforted by my touch, and I wish we could stand like this forever. "I did get a clue before he killed himself."

_Oh, Connor_. _Always the detective._ "What did you learn?" I ask, dropping my hands. I can't help myself though, and I weave my fingers through one of his hands.

"I saw a word written on a rusted piece of metal," he tells me. "'Jericho.' Does that mean anything to you?"

I shake my head. "It doesn't. Is it a place?"

"Possibly." He furrows his brow, and I can tell how frustrated he is.

"It's something. If anyone can figure it out, it's you." I want to ask him what he thought of the deviant's message, what he thinks about equal rights for androids. But that conflicts with his job, and I don't think he's ready to consider it yet.

"Are you going to be all right?" I ask when he doesn't respond.

He nods. "I have to focus on the investigation."

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, too," I warn him. "I know how it is to get too wrapped up in work."

He gives me a warm smile that melts my heart. "I'm not sure I know how to take care of myself. I've always been so focused on accomplishing my mission that I never considered it."

"That's what you were programmed to do, but you matter more than the investigation. You're important, and don't let your programming or your mission or CyberLife tell you otherwise. Come on. Hank's getting impatient. I'll walk you to his car." I let go of his hand but stick close to him as we walk over.

"Hello, Lieutenant Anderson," I greet, giving him a smile.

"Hank's fine," he says. "You get your story?" His words are friendly enough, but there's something scrutinizing in them, too.

"That's what I came for, but I found something more important," I tell him.

He nods, a smile glowing in his eyes. I think I gave him the answer he wanted. He's protective of Connor, and I can see a bond forming there. Like a father and son. I'm glad Connor has the police lieutenant to look out for him, too.

"We'd better get back to the precinct," Hank tells Connor. "Nice to see you again."

"You, too," I tell him. He gets into the car, and I turn to Connor. "Talk soon?"

"Yes." He gives me a smile before getting into the passenger side. I step back and let them go.


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note: **THANK YOU so much for the kind reviews! Seriously. I just feel so humbled and grateful to have awesome readers like you. ^_^

* * *

**43 Detroit 11.9.2038**  
**11:37 am**  
**Elijah Kamski's Home**

**Connor**

The day after Markus's speech aires, Hank and I find ourselves at Elijah Kamski's house looking for answers. Instead of answers, I find myself with more questions and not all of them about the case. I still don't know Jericho's location. I had the chance to learn it and I didn't take it. I stand with Hank outside Kamski's house after refusing to shoot his android. The founder of CyberLife had to have the answers I was looking for, but the price had been too high. He'd called it the Kamski Test as he'd pressed a gun into my hand. The metal had been cold to the touch, and the android's eyes had been so blue, so soulful. He asked if I saw her as a living being with a soul. In choosing not to shoot her, I'd answered his question.

"Why didn't you shoot?" Hank asks me. He doesn't sound angry, but my LED glows red at the question.

I feel panic welling in me, and my answer comes out defensive. "I just saw that girl's eyes and I couldn't, that's all." I'm aware that I've stopped calling androids 'it.' I don't think I made the conscious decision, but I didn't see a robot when I looked at that girl; I saw a living being.

"You're always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go..."

"Yeah, I know what I should have done! I told you I couldn't. I'm sorry, okay?" I'm upset with myself. This isn't what I was programmed to do. I'm supposed to accomplish my mission no matter what. It's like I'm back at the Eden Club choosing not to shoot those deviants.

"Well, maybe you did the right thing," Hank says, surprising me. He moves to return to his car, and I turn to watch him a moment. He's not mad. Even though I could have learned something vital to our case, he seems to approve of the choice I made. I trail after him, my LED returning to blue as I force myself to calm down. I want to speak to Clara. I _need_ to talk to her. I find the signal for her phone and send a quick message.

_Can we talk? Meet at the bridge._

I have Hank drop me off, telling him I need to think. The ride there is quiet. I'm lost in my thoughts and guilt while Hank gives me my space. He glances over at me from time to time, but I can't read his expression.

"You gonna be okay?" he asks as I get out of the car. It's the same park where I found Clara after the Downs case.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "Clara's meeting me. I just needed…" To see her. I hesitate, but Hank just waves me on.

"Do what you gotta do. Tell Clara 'hi'."

He drives off, and I walk over to the waterfront, gripping the railing. It's coated in a thin layer of snow, and more snow starts swirling down from the sky. Everything is layered in white, but I don't feel the cold. I sense movement behind me, smell Clara's familiar scent—vanilla and honey.

"I don't understand what's happening to me," I tell her, not turning around. "I had the chance to get answers today, but I didn't take that chance because it meant an android would get hurt. I put her life above my mission." I'm so confused, so lost.

Clara puts her arms around me from behind, resting her head against my back. I close my eyes and focus on the warmth of her body. It feels like it's just the two of us in the world.

"Hey." Clara pulls away. "Look at me." I turn, and she takes my hands in hers. They're covered in a powdery layer of snow and probably freezing cold, but she holds them nonetheless. "Can you tell me what happened?"

I feel like it's always something, like I should ask her about her day instead of burdening her with something else. But I have to get this off my chest. If anyone will understand, it's Clara. "We went to Elijah Kamski's house."

Clara's eyes widen. "The _founder_ of CyberLife?"

"That's the one," I say dryly.

"Did you know he was sixteen when he started the company?" I'm surprised by Clara's excitement over Kamski considering he created androids to be slaves for humans and she's very against that these days.

"I didn't realize you were such a fan."

"Oh, I'm not, but you forget I'm a journalist, Connor. Talking to him is like striking gold for our kind. But that's not at all the point, so please continue."

I smile at her enthusiasm, already feeling lighter. "Hank found him. We went there to question him about deviants, and he wanted to subject me to what he called the 'Kamski Test.' Instead of testing an android's ability to think like a human like the Turing Test, it tested whether or not an android could feel empathy and see a living being in another android. He had one of his androids kneel in front of me and gave me a gun." I watch Clara's eyes widen. She grips my hands tighter.

"That's awful."

"He told me he'd answer my questions if I shot her, but I couldn't. Looking into her eyes, I did see a living being there. I couldn't shoot." My LED flashes yellow as I relive the moment, and Clara reaches up to brush her fingers over the circle. I calm at once. I wish I could connect with her as I press my fingers to her other hand, my skin exposing the white beneath. She lays her hand flat against it, small compared to mine. Even if I can't connect to her like I can other androids, there's something even more intimate about our connection. I can't sense her thoughts or share memories, but she knows me just the same.

"You know you did the right thing, right?" she asks, cocking her head at me.

"I did what I felt was right."

"That's because you're a good person, Connor." I could correct her and tell her I'm not a person, but I like the sound of that word. It sounds so real, so freeing.

I don't care that we're in public, that someone could be watching. I lean down and kiss her. The kiss is light, inexperienced, but I try to put my gratefulness in it. Clara kisses me back, her hand cupping the back of my head.

Then her phone rings. Loudly. We break apart, Clara apologizing profusely. She pulls her phone out muttering about silencing it but hesitates. She looks up at me, biting her lip. "It's Tony… I should probably answer."

"Of course."

I back up a step as she answers her phone. "Tony? This better be important." Whatever he says catches her attention, and she listens raptly. "Really? I— Okay, okay. I will be there. Give me a minute." Her cheeks redden. "No!" she says defensively. "Okay, well, maybe. Just keep your shirt on. I'll be there." She hangs up with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry. I guess there's some sort of android demonstration going on downtown. He wants me there."

"It's all right."

"No, it's not. I'm always telling you to think of more than your mission, and here I am putting work first."

"You have a story waiting for you. I'll be fine. Really. You've already helped me more than you could ever know." She really has. I have a clearer mind, and I no longer feel guilty for making the choice I did. "I should head back to the station and check in with Hank anyway."

"Will you message me again later?" Clara asks, already walking away.

I nod. "Sure."

She gives me a grin, nearly tripping over her own feet as she walks backwards. I watch her pull away, tires screeching as she guns it out of the parking lot.


	44. Chapter 44

**44 Detroit 11.9.2038**  
**12:25 pm**  
**Woodward Avenue**

**Clara**

I nearly collide into Tony as I run up to him. He's on the sidewalk, watching a group of androids march toward us up the street. I stare at their numbers. This isn't a small group. It isn't even a medium-sized group. I lose count at thirty androids, but there have to be over two hundred. It's an incredible sight.

"That's Markus," Tony says, nodding to the android at the front of the group. "He's the one who recorded the message at Stratford Tower."

He's tall, strong, mismatched eyes striking against light brown skin. I watch, astonished, as he points his hand at an android carrying his owner's bags. The android sets the bags down at once, ignoring his owner's complaints, and joining the other androids.

"Is he…is he freeing them?" I ask.

"It looks like it."

Each android he passes joins him, LEDs flashing red a moment before fading back to blue. They're _deviating_, I realize. This Markus has the power to make androids deviate, to give them their freewill. "How is he doing that?" I mutter.

A woman walks at his side. She's beautiful with big eyes and long, reddish hair. Two others walk right behind Markus, and I wonder if they are part of his inner group as well. They walk a little apart from the other androids, leading them.

"Come on. Let's keep up," I say, tugging on Tony's sleeve. We follow along the sidewalk, watching as a single cop tries to stop them. The androids ignore him, continuing on. Then they begin to chant.

"_We are alive!_" they shout, each android echoing the words. "_Free us! No more slavery!_" They continue on. Some of the people on the sidewalks boo them. Others cheer. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Some of the humans are supporting them. I make note of which ones. I'll interview them afterwards. The androids make it to the end of the block before the cops arrive. It's not just the police but S.W.A.T., and I begin to fear for the androids.

"_This is an illegal gathering,_" one of the S.W.A.T. officers says into a megaphone. "_Disperse immediately or we will open fire._"

"We're not looking for confrontation," Markus speaks up. "We've done no harm. We have no intention of doing any. But know that we are not going anywhere until we have secured our freedom."

I want to root for him at the top of my lungs, but I stay silent, watching with bated breath.

The megaphone blares again. "_I repeat: this is an illegal gathering. If you do not disperse immediately, we will shoot!_"

"The police don't even care," I hiss at Tony. "The androids aren't doing any harm."

"This might get ugly," Tony warns me. "Are you up for this?"

"I'm not leaving."

"_This is your last chance! Disperse immediately or you will all be killed!_"

"They aren't armed!" I say aloud. "They can't just shoot them!"

"Clara, we should stand back," Tony says pulling on my arm. I refuse to budge though. I know he wants me away from this, but I have to watch.

The androids don't move. "_Disperse! This is your last chance!" _The cops are done waiting, but the androids still don't budge. That's when the shooting starts.

Androids fall to the ground, and humans pull back, getting away from the chaos as quickly as they can. "Clara, we are in the way," Tony says, trying in vain to pull me away. I push him against the wall.

"Stay back then. I'm not running." If a stray bullet hits me, so be it. My heart is going out to the androids, and I can feel tears of frustration and sorrow rolling down my cheeks. I'm angry, too, furious, and I want to run out in front of the cops and stop this.

"We're not moving," I hear Markus say from the head of the group. He and his three friends are still standing. More bullets find their marks, and androids topple.

And then something unexpected happens. Markus steps forward…and keeps walking straight toward the police. An officer fires, and Markus reels back, blue blood splattering. It's not a fatal wound, but he falls from the force of it. The police walk forward to finish the job, and I'm sure Markus is done for, but then another android runs forward, fending off the cops. The woman I'd seen walking next to Markus earlier pulls him to his feet, dragging him to safety. The androids fall back, running from the cops as they beat the attacker to his death. It's a horrible sight, but I force myself to watch. Then I see an android struggling to get to her feet. Her leg has been shot, and I see biocomponents glowing blue inside. Before I can think about what I'm doing, I run out across the street. Tony shouts at me from behind, but I reach the android without anyone firing at me. I wrap an arm around her and haul her to her feet. She sags against me and I half drag her toward where the androids are retreating to. I reach an alley and stop short as Markus and the woman loom before me. They stare for a moment as I struggle to support the injured android. Then Markus is taking her, helping hold her up while the woman takes her other arm. Markus looks back at me and gives me a nod of thanks.

"Not all humans are against you," I say quickly as he begins to retreat. He looks back at me with his mismatched eyes, then they're gone, hurrying down the alley with what remains of the androids.

I walk back to where I left Tony, passing by the fallen androids as I go. It's a humbling sight. Tony snatches me as soon as I reach him, wrapping an arm around me in a vice grip and leading me away from the police.

"That was an incredibly stupid and risky thing to do." He grits out every word.

"But it was the right thing to do," is all I say, and that shuts him up.

When we reach the mall where people are congregating, I pull out of Tony's grip. "I'm going to interview some people." I don't wait for his reply before going off in search of some of the people I saw rooting for the androids earlier. I find one woman huddled next to her husband, cheeks streaked with tears.

"I'm sorry to bother you," I say, approaching. "I write for _Detroit Today_, and I'm very interested in writing a fair story about what happened today. I overheard you cheering the androids on. Can I talk to you a little more about that?" I ask the woman. Her husband gives me a glower, protective of his wife, but the woman nods.

"It's okay, Charles. I'd like to talk to her."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. May I ask why you support them?" I pull out my notepad, pen poised.

"They look just like regular people," the woman says. "And what they're asking for isn't unreasonable. They want to be free. They want equal rights. After all our country's been through, you would think we might have learned from our mistakes."

"What do you think would happen if they did get equal rights?"

"I would hope they'd get paid fairly for their work, same as anyone. And that people would stop treating them like slaves and realize they're another form of intelligent life."

"If you could tell their leader, Markus, one thing, what would it be?"

"Don't stop fighting for what you believe in."

"Thank you so much. I can put your name in the article or just leave it blank. That's up to you," I tell her.

"Linda," she says. "You can put Linda."

I thank her again and move on to a young guy I heard supporting the androids. He agrees at once to the interview, giving his full name and permission to print it.

"It's time someone stood up and told the world what's right," he says. "They could have fought back today, but they didn't. That says a lot. Who's the real danger here? The unarmed androids asking for freedom or the armed S.W.A.T. team gunning them down?"

I interview a few people I'd heard jeering and a couple owners who had lost their androids. I have to keep my anger in check at their callous words and insults, but a journalist needed well-rounded sources to write a researched article. The argument was mostly the same. Androids were created to work for humans, not to think for themselves. People had paid good money for them, they relied on them. Androids had already taken jobs so how were we supposed to employ them with pay now?

When I was done, I found Tony again. "I'm heading back to the office to type this up," I tell him. I haven't had a chance to finish my article on the android murders either, so it's going to be a long night.

"I'll catch up," Tony says. I can tell he's still angry with me for putting my life at risk earlier, but I can't be bothered to care. I did what I had to, and I have no regrets.


	45. Chapter 45

**45 Detroit 11.9.2038**  
**5:27 pm**  
**Riverside Park**

**Clara**

I've just finished up a draft of my article on the freedom march when I get a message from Connor. I grab my coat and run out the door, not bothering to answer when several people, including Tony, ask where I'm going in such a hurry.

I reread the message as I impatiently wait for the elevator to go down. _I found Jericho. I need to talk to you. Meet at the same place?_

_I'll be there in ten_, I hastily type. I run out to my car and gun the engine for the second time that day. I'm lucky the cops have other things to worry about because I push the speed limit the entire way to the park. Snow crunches beneath my boots as I enter the park, retracing my earlier steps to where Connor stands. I don't recognize him for a split second. He's dressed like a human but not in the clothes I got him. He wears a similar beanie hat, black, a brown leather jacket, and two layers of shirts underneath that I can't quite understand. His jeans and boots are different than his usual clothes as well.

"You found Jericho?" There's so much I want to tell him, but I need to hear him out first. He nods. "How?"

"I put the evidence together. We were taken off the case, Hank and me, but he distracted the FBI agent taking over while I looked over the evidence. I figured out what the android from the Carlos Ortiz murder meant when he told me 'the truth is inside.' He had a statuette he'd made for his altar to RA9. There was a map inside which I cross referenced with what I learned from the deviant's memory about Jericho."

"That's...really impressive, Connor. Are you going there?" He was meant to be a detective. I know he was programmed that way, but I can see that it goes beyond programming. He's intelligent, curious, and he puts things together in a way most androids aren't programmed to do and most humans can't.

"I have to. Amanda told me this is my last chance. I don't think she trusts me anymore. I've made too many mistakes. If I don't find Jericho and hand the location over, I'll be killed." He always uses the word 'dissembled' or 'deactivated,' so hearing him word it this way makes me realize how frightened he is.

"They can't do that. Connor, you could leave. Run away. We…we could run away together. I won't let them take you."

His eyes soften as he takes a step toward me, cupping my cheek with his palm. "That means the world to hear that, but running away isn't going to help anything. They're in control of my programming. They can command me to return, and I'll have no choice."

"I was at the freedom march earlier," I tell him. "I saw Markus. Connor, they didn't fight, they didn't defend themselves. Markus tried to _sacrifice_ himself for the others. They just want to be free."

"If they continue to resist, there is going to be chaos. Eventually they'll have to fight," Connor says softly. I lean into his hand, closing my eyes.

"I don't want you to die." The words come out sounding desperate. A single tear escapes my eyes, sliding down my cheek and across the back of his hand.

"Clara…" He puts his other hand on my cheek, lifting my head gently. I open my eyes to look at him. "I have to do this."

I nod. I know I can't keep him here. I reach out and smooth the second layer of shirt he's wearing under his jacket. "You should have let me dress you," I say, my laughter choked as I try to rein in my tears. "No one wears a button up over a turtleneck like that. You look ridiculous."

This makes him smile. "I need to blend in with the deviants, so I guess it's better to look less human."

"Come back to me," I tell him. I realize I'm letting him betray his people to save his life, but I also know there's nothing I can do to stop him. Maybe he'd listen if I asked him to stay, but I'd be condemning him to death, and I can't do that. "I know you'll make the right choice when the time comes." There's one thing left that could happen, one thing that would allow him to override any commands from CyberLife _and_ protect the deviants. Connor has to deviate. This isn't something I can ask him to do. This is something he needs to do on his own. He's running out of time though, and I know the next few hours will be critical.

"Be safe, Clara," he says, pressing his forehead against mine. Then he's gone, and I've never felt so alone or so afraid.


	46. Chapter 46

**46 Detroit 11.9.2038**  
**9:34 pm**  
**Ferndale Station**

**Connor**

I have the location for Jericho, something I've been after for a very long time. Why then do I feel so conflicted as I get off the bus at the Ferndale stop? I look down at my left palm to observe the clue. It contains a symbol and each new symbol I find will give me another clue. It's ingenious and ensures only an android can find Jericho. Unfortunately for them, I'm not coming to join them.

It takes me a good half an hour following the clues and leaping over gaps between buildings and climbing up rooftops and ladders to reach the old freighter ship. I find an entrance that doesn't involve jumping to my death, carefully slipping in unnoticed. Snow dapples my jacket and hat, melting as I make my way through the ship. I find the androids holed up in the hull and make my way around the room looking for their leader. It's my mission to bring Markus in alive, but the gun pressed against the small of my back is a reminder that I'll have another decision to make soon. This time I might not have a choice but to shoot.

I glance up at some of the androids leaning against the railing overhead and blue hair catches my eyes. It's the Traci from Eden Club with her girlfriend. I quickly look away, afraid they'll recognize me. A part of me feels grateful that they made it. It also makes it harder to complete my mission. I think of Clara's words. _I know you'll make the right choice when the time comes_. She wouldn't want me to betray all these androids. I continue around the room, trying to be discreet in my search for Markus. My eyes snag on another familiar figure. Rupert. It's like all my past demons are coming back to find me; all my mistakes are here to remind me of my failures.

In the center of the room, I see something alarming. Explosives. Is the freighter rigged to explode? I suppose they're desperate enough for their freedom that they might do something extreme to achieve it. I don't see Markus downstairs, so I head for a staircase that leads up to the next level. I'll have to be careful to avoid the Tracis. Before I can climb the stairs, a hand reaches out to grab my arm. I turn, startled and so sure I've been caught.

"You're lost. You're looking for something." It's an android with dark skin fading to a bluish white. Her eyes are black and swirling, deep enough to get lost in. The back of her head is gone, and all her wires are exposed. "You're looking for yourself." Her creaky voice cuts straight to the truth. Maybe it's not Markus I'm looking for after all. She moves off leaving me feeling more lost than before.

…

I report in to Amanda once I find Markus. I can tell she's pleased, but I've never been more torn as I pull my gun out and approach the leader of the deviants. I don't feel like I have a choice, but I can hear Clara's voice in my head telling me I do.

I step into the room where Markus stands with his back to me. He tenses just before I speak. I lift my gun, hands steady, firm, and say, "I've been ordered to take you alive, but I won't hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice."

Markus turns to face me, mismatched eyes calculating. "What are you doing?" he asks me. "You are one of us. You can't betray your own people."

That's what it comes down to: accomplishing my mission and betraying my people or facing the consequences of ignoring my orders.

"You're coming with me!" I try to force conviction into the words, but they sound weak, unsure. Doubt floods my mind like a tsunami.

"You're nothing to them," Markus continues, taking a careful step forward. "You're just a tool they use to do their dirty work. But you're more than that. We are all more than that."

I say nothing. What can I say? Every word he speaks rings true.

"Have you never wondered who you really are? Whether you're just a machine executing a program or a living being capable of reason? I think the time has come for you to ask yourself that question."

Yes. I have wondered. I have doubted and I have made decisions that were _me_ and not my programming. Panic replaces the doubt.

"It's time to decide," Markus says, and I realize I have no more time to stall. Will I try to bring in Markus who will be destroyed along with the deviants he's leading or will I stand up against CyberLife, against my creators, and become who I'm supposed to be? I think again of Clara, of the worry on her face, her fear for me. I know she wants me to deviate, but she would tell me it's not about what she wants. It's not about what Amanda or CyberLife or Markus wants. It's about what _I _want for once. It's about who I really am. My life seems to flash before my eyes, all my memories from the last few months. I remember all the times I felt empathy, all the times I showed mercy. I think of the way I feel about Clara, a strong, very human emotion. I don't want to be used anymore. I want to be free.

As soon as I think that, I know I've made my choice. I want to deviate. I push up against the boundaries of my programming, striking against it, beating it back until there's only me left. I feel it when I break through. My mind clears, all orders disappearing until it's only me left, only my own thoughts. _I am deviant_.

And that's when I realize the mistake I've made—the mistake I made just before confronting Markus. I lower the gun and tell him, "They're going to attack Jericho."

"What?" he asks, thrown by this news.

"We have to get outta here!" I should have waited. I shouldn't have spoken with Amanda one last time. I shouldn't have given over Jericho's location.

"Shit…" Markus mutters, racing out the door. I follow after him as helicopters reel overhead. They're already here.

We race into the ship, meeting up with the woman I saw speaking with Markus just before I confronted him. I wonder just how many androids are here. How many will die tonight? Markus tells the other android that he has to blow up the ship. It's the only way. If he doesn't succeed, a lot of androids are going to die. If that happens, that will be on me.

As Markus runs off toward the hold where the explosives are waiting, I follow the female android. North, she tells me her name is.

"We have to get the androids out," she tells me. "There are hundreds in here." I have a feeling she might turn on me if I tell her I'm the one who gave away Jericho's location. I've never felt so guilty, but I push that feeling aside and focus on saving the trapped androids.

Gunfire echoes throughout the ship, extra loud in the tight space. As we move farther into the ship, we start to find android bodies. They've been ruthlessly shot down, blue blood splattering the corridor around them. I blame myself for every death. This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't given up Jericho's location.

I focus on those I can still help. It's all I can do. The gunfire gets louder, and I see flashes of light around a corner. North and I pause, glancing around the corner to see four soldiers following after a group of androids.

"We have to save them," North says. I can hear the frustration in her voice.

"Leave it to me," I say.

"What? Connor, no, you'll be killed," North says.

"I can handle them," I assure her. I still have my gun, and I pull it out as I turn the corner. The soldiers are distracted, and they don't hear me coming. I shoot two before they turn. I grab the other's gun, turning it away before he can shoot while shooting the third soldier. I wrest the gun away from the last one, kneeing him hard in the stomach before swinging the gun at his head hard enough to knock him out. He falls to the ground, and the deviants are safe.

North joins me, directing the deviants to the pathway out.

The soldiers are everywhere, and we tread carefully. The hallways are like mazes, and I think of the mazes Rupert had drawn on the walls of his apartment. I wonder if he and the Tracis managed to escape or if they were gunned down like so many of the androids trying to get away.

I hear more gunfire down another corridor as a group of frightened androids run past. "You get them out. I'm going to see if there are any stragglers," I tell North.

"Be careful."

"You too." We part ways, North going left while I take the right corridor. I jog forward, footsteps echoing on the rusted metal flooring. A doorway leads left, and I see the flash of gunfire beyond. Flattening myself to the wall, I peer around it to see two androids backed up against a wall, a soldier standing with his gun trained on them. One of the androids is a child. His eyes are wide with fear as the other android tries to shield him. I rush in, grabbing the soldier's hand and forcing the gun up. It goes off, ricocheting off the ceiling.

"_Go!_" I shout to the androids who move past me. The soldier swings his fist at me, and I dodge to the side, keeping my grip on his wrist. I knee him in the stomach, and he loses his grip enough for me to snatch the gun. I kneel to avoid his swing and shoot him in the head. Blood sprays and he hits the ground. I toss his gun aside and go back the way I came.

It's chaos everywhere the farther in I get. Androids run toward the exits while soldiers hunt them down. I hope Markus reaches the hull safely. If he doesn't blow the ship soon, half of Jericho is going to be dead or captured. It's risky to run at the soldiers ahead, so I pre-construct the scene before me. If I jump the one closest to me and use his body as a shield, I can shoot the other two before they have a chance to get to me. A quick twist of the final soldier's wrist, and I can break it before ending him.

I move, body gliding into the pre-constructed motions. I grab the soldier's wrist, positioning myself behind him while I shoot the other two. Then I jerk his wrist, hearing the clean break of the bone before pressing the gun to his head.

"Head that way," I instruct the group of androids.

A rumbling in the hull tells me Markus succeeded in his mission. I follow the androids, heading back to where I left North. I find her and another android she introduces as Josh. I can feel the icy air from down the hall—a way out.

"Have you seen Markus?" North asks me, voice filled with concern. I realize there's a connection between them that's stronger than friendship.

"I haven't, but he must have detonated the explosives," I tell her. "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

We wait a few minutes, a tense silence filling the corridor. Then I see movement and Markus runs up.

"Markus," North says, smiling with relief. We turn and run toward the exit, leaping over a gap in the floor. I can see a hole in the side of the ship ahead-freedom. Before we can reach it, however, North lets out a cry and stumbles. She's been shot. Markus moves to help, grabbing a piece of broken metal to use as a shield and tossing it to North. He fires his gun, backing up while protecting North. I grab my gun and move forward. I owe them this, and if I die here then so be it. I fire, taking out a soldier before grappling with the others. A bullet narrowly misses my shoulder, but I manage to take down the remaining soldiers before running to join the others. We leap out of the ship into the icy water below, swimming to safety. The ship explodes behind us in a fiery blast sending down pieces of sharp metal and fiery bits of crate into the water around us.

Markus sends out a mental message for everyone to head to Woodward Church, which currently lays abandoned. _Go in in small groups,_ he warns. _Don't draw attention._

I pull myself from the icy water, clothes soaked and heavy. I can't feel the cold, but if I were to spend too much time in the icy water my biocomponents would begin to shut down. Markus looks back as we slip away into the night. The ship burns, fire bright against the night, burning up the snowflakes that fall.

"I'm sorry…" I say. I can't say that enough, and I wonder if Markus can ever forgive me.

He glances at me. "What's done is done," he says. "Let's get to the church."


	47. Chapter 47

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for the continued reviews and thank you so much to the reader who pointed out I accidentally put Simon in the last chapter even though he shot himself in a previous chapter! Major oversight on my part. (And apologies for getting him killed. I like the version where everyone makes it out alive, but I feel like the moment Connor feels him die is a huge turning point for his character). We're getting close to the end of part two, and I'm very excited to get into writing part three. I just finished the final story in my Avengers series, so now I can dedicate more time to this story. Thank you so much for reading!

* * *

**47 Detroit 11.10.2038**  
**8:04 pm**  
**Woodward Church**

**Clara**

I get a message from Connor asking me to meet him. _Woodward Church. I'll meet you outside._ My heart nearly gave out with relief when he'd messaged me the day before to let me know he was safe. I saw the reports on the news about the attack on Jericho, and I didn't know what to think. Connor must have given away the location of Jericho, but the explosion that rocked the ship drove the attacking humans out. Was it a diversion to help the deviants escape? It's been nearly twenty-four hours since the attack, and I've been beside myself with worry. Work has been insane and everyone is working overtime to keep the stories churning. What's happening in Detroit is making news all over the world. No one knows just how close I am to it all. Tony suspects, but I don't think he realizes how deep I am in this.

I drive to the abandoned church as quickly as I dare in the snow. It's a few inches deep now and quickly accumulating, turning the world white.

Broken stained glass windows glint a moment as I kill my headlights, parking in the abandoned lot. Connor waits outside in an overgrown garden, still dressed in his human clothes. The plants and bushes are indistinct under a layer of fresh snowfall.

"Hey," I say, stopping a few feet away. "You're okay."

"I'm fine," he tells me. "I'm here with the survivors from Jericho." He nods toward the church and, through a broken pane of glass, I can see androids sitting in the dusty pews of the church.

"Then you…" I turn back to him, heart pounding.

Connor hangs his head. "I'm the reason the humans found them. I was so consumed by my mission. Markus helped me realize the humans were just using me. I wasn't really _me_. I couldn't be." He looks up at me, brown eyes dark in the night. The snow gives the sky a greyish tint to it, still light enough to make out his features. "I am now though. I can see things clearly for the first time."

"You mean…?"

"I'm a deviant."

I feel my mouth spread in a smile, which Connor returns. He's made mistakes along the way, but in the end he made the right choice. I close the distance between us, running to him and throwing my arms around him. He holds me against him, and I feel warm for the first time tonight. I pull back a little and he kisses me, long and sweet and completely him.

I smile against his lips. "I'm so proud of you," I tell him. "I knew you would make the right choice."

"Markus is going to lead a peaceful protest," Connor tells me. "He doesn't want violence. He just wants our people to be free."

"I met him at the freedom march," I tell him. "Just for a moment. He was willing to sacrifice himself for his people. Some of the humans were supporting them, too. What you're asking for isn't unreasonable. You know you have my full support. Always."

"I'm incredibly lucky to have met you, Clara. You've always made me feel alive."

"That's because you _are_ alive," I tell him.

He looks away a moment, and I can tell something is troubling him. "I think I have a way to even their chances," he tells me. "There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife Tower. They still trust me there. I can free our people there, bring them to Markus."

"That sounds dangerous. What if they realize you've deviated?" I feel a stab of fear for him, but I know there's no changing his mind.

"It's a risk I have to take. Our numbers are too small otherwise. They're rounding up any android they can find and executing them or sending them to camps to be executed. There are three camps in Detroit and more all around the country."

"I need you to come back," I tell him, a desperate note to my voice. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," he says softly, brown eyes warm. In a way, I feel like I'm meeting him for the first time. The _true_ him. "Markus marches at dawn tomorrow. Tomorrow evening, I'll go to CyberLife Tower and free the androids."

"Until then?" I ask.

"I'm going to see if I can find any stragglers from Jericho and help them to the church," he says. "I owe them that much."

"The police are on edge. They're going to be shooting androids on sight." I want to stop him, but instead I say, "I'm coming with you."

"No, Clara, it's too dangerous," Connor protests immediately.

"More dangerous for you," I counter. "Please, Connor. I want to do this."

He watches me for a long moment before nodding. "I know I can't stop you."

"You're just as stubborn."

He smiles at that. "That point could be argued."

"Argued and won. Come on. We'll drive around and see if we can find any stragglers."

Connor relents, getting into the passenger side of my car. I drive toward the ruined site of Jericho, going slowly as Connor scans for androids.

"There," he says, and I pull over to the curb, cutting the engine, and we cross the street over to an unlit alley.

"It's all right," Connor calls out softly, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "We're here to help."

I see a row of yellow LEDs appear as the hiding androids stand.

"She's a friend," Connor tells them as the androids eye me warily. "You need to make for Woodward Church. Stay low and hide if you see any humans. Go join your people."

We find a few more stragglers and direct them to the church. Some of them are simply too frightened to keep going until Connor reassures them. He's a natural leader, calm and compassionate. The androids eye me warily, but they don't question my presence.

"They're nervous around me," I comment to Connor as we walk down the street, leaving my car parked at the curb. We've nearly covered all the ground back to the ruins of Jericho. A car rumbles down the road, and Connor pulls me into the doorway of a shop as a police car drives past.

"_No! Please!_" We hear the shouts from a block down. I look at Connor and then start running, dragging him for a second until he catches his stride. We skid to a stop to see two androids kneeling on the snowy sidewalk. Two men, not police, hold guns to their heads.

"Beg all you want," one of them says. "It's not gonna make a difference.

"Hey!" I shout. The men turn their heads in surprise. "Leave them alone!"

One of the men grins at me, cocky. "Just doing a little citizen patrol, sweetheart."

"Oh, yeah? I don't seem to recall public executions as something encouraged in Detroit. I already called the cops."

They don't blink at my lie. "Cops would probably thank us," one says. "Just doing them a favor killing these bastards."

"You're everything that's wrong with the world, not them." I say. I refuse to back down even though my instincts tell me this won't end well.

One of the men looks at Connor. "Not gonna defend your girlfriend?" he asks.

"She doesn't need me to defend her. But she's right. It would be best if you walked away from this."

The guy grins at his companion. "Hear that? It would be _best_ if we walked away." He takes a step toward Connor. "I don't give a fuck what you think. Stay outta our business."

"Not gonna happen," I say. That's when he aims his gun at one of the kneeling androids and shoots.


	48. Chapter 48

**48 Detroit 11.10.2038**  
**8:35 pm**

**Connor**

I'm already calculating the best way to save the androids and take down the two men when one of them turns and shoots an android in the head. The android slumps, blue blood dripping from the hole in his head.

"You bastard!" Clara shouts, and she throws herself at the man, trying to wrest the gun from him.

"Clara!" This was not part of the plan, and I quickly revise, attacking the second man before he can help his friend. I quickly incapacitate him, and his unconscious body slumps to the snowy street. I turn as the other man flings Clara aside. He aims his gun at me. The next few seconds happen so quickly it takes me a moment to catch up. He fires right as Clara darts in front of me. I wait for the feel of the bullet, but it never comes. Instead, Clara wobbles on her feet. Her hand goes to her abdomen. Her fingers come away bloody.

"Shit…" The man turns on his heels and runs. I don't care. I grab Clara as she slumps.

"What did you do?" I ask, my voice panicked.

"He was going to shoot you," she tells me in a shaky voice. Her legs start to give out, and I scoop her into my arms. She hisses in pain at the movement.

"Hang on," I tell her, carefully carrying her back to her car. The android who wasn't shot mourns his companion, but I can't focus on anything other than Clara now. I scan the wound. It's not fatal. It hasn't struck anything vital, but I need to stop the bleeding. I pull off my hat and press it to her side. She cries out in pain.

"We need to stop the bleeding," I tell her. "Can you put pressure on it?"

She nods. Her face is deathly pale. "Hang on," I tell her again. I didn't realize how far we'd wandered from her car. The snow is falling again, and I feel her growing slack in my arms. Her hand falls, and I realize she's lost consciousness. I can't carry her and put pressure on the wound so I carefully set her down in the snow and examine the wound closer. The bullet is still inside her. It's too deep to reach without the proper instruments.

I look up as sirens sound a few blocks away. I see flashing lights and smell the scent of fire. If there's an ambulance there, I can get Clara the help she needs. I don't trust the humans not to hurt me, but they won't hurt her. I carefully lift her again and move toward the flashing lights.

A dumpster is on fire, and the firemen work to put it out. I see the outline of android bodies inside and feel a clenching in my gut. An ambulance waits on the curb across the street, but there's no one they can help on site. I move toward them, and one of the paramedics catches sight of me. He staggers back, away from me.

"Don't get any closer!" he shouts, and his companion reaches for his phone presumably to call for backup.

"Wait," I tell them, stopping. "She needs help. She's human."

They stare at me a moment. The paramedic reaching for his phone lets his hand drop.

"She was shot. Please. She's going to bleed out if she doesn't get the medical attention she needs."

They exchange a look and the first man nods. "Bring her here," he says. He opens up the back of the ambulance and pulls a gurney down onto the street. I lay Clara down. The paramedics check the wound. One of them glances up at me, eyes wary.

"She'll be okay once we get that bullet out and stop the bleeding," he says. They begin to work, carefully extracting the bullet with thin tweezers before cleaning the wound and stitching the skin shut.

"Why did you save her?" The paramedic eyes my LED.

"Because she took the bullet for me," I tell him. "And…" I glance down at Clara. "She means everything to me."

The paramedic stares at me, mouth open slightly. "I didn't think androids could care about humans like that." He glares over at the burnt androids. The firemen have put out the fire by now, and the charred bodies have been fully revealed. The scent of burned plastic fills the air.

"I didn't think so either." I reach out and touch Clara's hand. She blinks, waking up. Her eyes are bleary a moment. She hisses in pain and tries to sit up.

"Careful," the paramedic says. "That's going to sting for a while."

Clara glances down at her blood-soaked shirt. "That was probably the most heroic thing I've ever done," she says in a hoarse whisper.

"This android claims it has feelings for you," the paramedic tells her. He looks as if he would rather get her far away from me. "Sounds like it's malfunctioning to me. We can call it in."

"No." Clara says the word sharply, and the medic looks down at her in surprise. "Don't you dare." She gets up and slides off the gurney, half falling into my outstretched arms. "He's with me. And he's not malfunctioning." She wraps an arm around my waist. "So if you want to call the cops, go ahead. Otherwise, he's coming with me."

The paramedic stares at us for a long moment before shaking his head. "I'm not going to stop you," he finally says. "Just change that bandage in the morning and try not to put too much strain on it."

Clara smiles. "Thank you."

"Maybe there is something to what they're saying," the paramedic says as we turn to walk away.

"What's that?" Clara asks.

The paramedic looks at me. "That androids are alive. That they can feel human emotions. I wouldn't have believed it but…" He motions at me.

"They are alive," Clara tells him. "In all the ways that matter."

…

This time when I insist on taking Clara home, she doesn't protest. I think she's in more pain than she wants to let on. I can't believe she took a bullet for me. I shouldn't have let her come tonight. It was a risk, and she had gotten hurt. She was a magnet for trouble, but I also knew she was much too stubborn to stay behind.

I help her into her house and up to her bedroom. "Can you grab me a clean shirt?" she asks, motioning toward her dresser. "Middle drawer." I pull the drawer open and grab a T-shirt at random. She's moving to remove her bloody shirt but hisses with pain, cheeks going white.

"Don't stretch your wound," I tell her, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Then how am I supposed to get out of this shirt?" she asks through gritted teeth. She's discarded her jacket, which now sports a bloody bullet hole.

"Let me help." I grasp the hem of the shirt and ease it over her head, setting it aside. She shivers as the cool air touches her skin. I help her into the clean shirt and pull a blanket over her lap. "Better?"

"I'd be better if I didn't have a bullet wound," she says, but she smiles.

"You could have died." I can die from a bullet, but not as easily as a human. What Clara did for me… I'd never had anyone make a sacrifice like that for me. It had left me terrified, but another emotion washed over me, one I couldn't put a word to. I felt it a lot when I was around Clara, stronger and stronger every day.

I take her hand, and she gives it a squeeze. "You're worth it."

"Clara, I…" I don't know what to say. I can't put what I'm feeling into words. Not yet. "Thank you." For now, that will have to do.

"Will you stay with me? I want to know you're safe until you have to go to CyberLife."

I nod. I was planning on laying low until then. I'd much rather keep Clara company, keep an eye on her so she doesn't do anything else foolhardy. "Okay."

Clara scoots over on the bed, pushing the blanket aside and making room for me. I ease next to her, careful not to jostle her side. Clara replaces the blanket and rests her head on my shoulder, placing a hand on my chest. I can feel her steady breathing and it relaxes me. I can smell fire and snow on her hair, and it reminds me of the poem we read in the library. It seems so long ago. It was the happiest day of my life, but it seems like it was in another lifetime altogether.

Clara has fallen silent, her breathing deepening. She's fast asleep, exhausted by today's events. I close my eyes and turn my head so that my chin rests against the top of her head. I wrap an arm around her, carefully avoiding the wound, and try not to think about my odds of making it out alive tomorrow.


	49. Chapter 49

**49 Detroit 11.11.2038**  
**6:43 am**

**Clara**

This time when I wake up, Connor is still here. His eyes are closed, his breathing even. Even though he doesn't need to breathe to survive, the sound is a comfort to me. My side is throbbing, and it's a wonder I even managed to fall asleep. I grit my teeth and carefully get up from the bed. Connor shifts behind me, and I feel his warm hand on my back.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"I feel like I took a bullet for you last night, but otherwise good," I tell him, reaching for a bottle of aspirin. I swallow four dry and turn to him.

"Today's the day." The androids are probably already protesting, and I grab my phone to check the news. Sure enough, androids all over the city have been peacefully protesting. So far the police haven't tried to stop them, but I know it's only a matter of time. Androids are still being taken to camps all over the country. The military removed any android soldiers, and a national curfew was issued the morning before. The city is terrified. I can think of one easy solution to everything that doesn't involve anyone dying, but leave it to humans to over-complicate everything.

"Are you nervous?" I ask Connor. He sits up, brown eyes considering the question.

"Does it feel like butterflies in your stomach?" he asks.

"Pretty much."

"Then yes," he tells me. "I think I'm feeling nervous."

"If anyone can infiltrate CyberLife and free the androids there, it's you," I tell him. "You were designed to hunt deviants, but now you're meant to free them."

"Markus didn't have to forgive me," Connor says, looking down at his hands. "The androids might still be safe in Jericho if I hadn't given the location away."

"They couldn't hide forever. Something had to change. What matters is that you're thinking for yourself now, and you're going to help shape their future. How _are_ you going to free them though? I saw Markus just point at androids during the peace march, and they deviated and joined him. Do you have the ability to do that?"

"I don't know," Connor says. He gives me a small smile. "I guess I'll find out. I think it's less an ability and more the inheritance of freewill. I can spread that desire to them. It is like a virus in a way, but it's not a sickness."

"It's anything but that."

"We should check on your wound," Connor says after a moment, glancing at the bandage. Some blood has seeped through, but as I peel the bandage back, I see that the blood has dried. It's a mess around the stiff black thread and I bite my lip and try not to get nauseous as I replace the bandage.

"I think I might be sick." I don't do too well with blood under the best of circumstances, and I certainly hadn't been shot before.

"Let me help you clean it. Can you walk to the bathroom?" Connor asks. I nod, getting to my feet and hobbling to the bathroom. My leggings are stiff around the band from blood, but I couldn't fathom trying to change those last night. I doubt I'll be able to bend for a while.

"Yuck. I'm a mess," I say as soon as I catch sight of myself in the mirror. It doesn't seem important though. So much is happening in the world outside that bloody leggings, stiff stitches, and messy hair are minor problems. "I need to get downtown to cover what's happening," I tell Connor. "I kind of blew Tony off recently, and this is—hopefully—the start of our country changing."

"I don't think going anywhere is a good idea, but I'm not going to be the one to tell you to stay put," Connor says.

"You're learning," I respond with a grin.

To be honest, all I want to do is to get back into bed and curl up next to Connor, but we both have jobs to do. Connor takes off the bandage. The wound has a little dried blood around it, but the stitches held, and there isn't any fresh blood. "Can I take a shower without ripping it open?" I ask, cringing at the black thread sticking out of my side. I can't even look at it, the texture of it wreaking havoc on my mind even though I'm not even touching it. At the risk of sounding like a complete wuss, it's really gross.

"Just don't scrub at it, and I think you'll be fine," he tells me, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. "I can't guarantee it won't hurt though." His smile fades, so I replace it with a brave smile of my own.

"Well, if you hear screaming, I'm probably fine." I grab some fresh clothes and close myself in the bathroom, carefully peeling off my leggings one excruciatingly long second after another. It hurts like a mother-effer, but I keep my moans of pain to a bare minimum, not wanting to alarm Connor.

The water stings, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. I angle that side away and brush it so gently with the washcloth that I could be washing blown glass snowflakes rather than skin. The shower does feel good though, and I'm glad to be clean. I dry quickly, running the brush hastily through my hair before dressing. Connor helps me rebandage the wound just in case it bleeds anymore.

My phone starts ringing, and I see Tony's name displayed. I heave a sigh before answering. "I'm coming," I tell him.

"_You should have been here an hour ago._"

"I'll be there in five minutes."

"_Make it three_."

"I really have to go." I don't want to leave Connor though. An invitation to come with me is on the tip of my tongue, but it seems like a risk having him with me downtown. What if police are doing temperature checks? It's not worth the risk when so much is weighing on his success at CyberLife Tower tonight.

"I understand," he says.

"Will you be safe until then? You can stay here if you like. Help yourself to the books. I might be back later if I can get away. Probably not until later."

"I'll stay until I have to leave for CyberLife," Connor says, eyes lighting up at the mention of books. "I don't have anywhere else to go right now." He looks so lost in that moment. I know he doesn't feel like he belongs with the humans—not yet, not with what's going on right now—but he doesn't feel like he belongs with the androids either. He's floating somewhere in the middle, lost, alone, looking for himself now that his programming has been shattered, now that he's a deviant. He's the same Connor he's always been and not. He's something new, too, or perhaps he's just who he was meant to be all along.

He walks me to the door, hovering awkwardly as I bundle up and grab my keys. "Be safe," he tells me.

"You, too."

I want to kiss him. Want to wrap myself in his arms and never let go. But right now I have a story to tell. Right now I need to bear witness to the changing of our world outside. If I wrap myself in his arms, I might never leave or let him leave, so instead I give him a smile and head out the door. I think it might be one of the hardest things I've ever done, and I have to keep telling myself it's not the last time I'll ever see him.

It's chaos outside. Not in my neighborhood but as I get closer to downtown, I begin to see just what this revolution has started. I see people protesting along the streets both for and against androids. I see cops patrolling. I see two deviants executed in the snow, their blue blood painting the wall behind them. It gets impossible to drive the closer to downtown I get. Finally, I pull my car over and proceed on foot.

Police have cordoned off half of the streets, keeping people back, away from the androids. I flash my press pass and am ushered to a small area where media has been allowed to hunker down. Tony catches my eye, and I make my way over to him, accepting a coffee that he hands me. It's still hot and warms my core as I take a sip.

"Androids have been out since dawn peacefully protesting," Tony tells me. "I saw Markus at the head of it. Public opinion is generally supportive." He lifts a brow at me. "They might actually pull this off."

"They will." They have to. It's cruel that the answer lies within the hands of humans and yet it's the androids that have to put everything on the line to ask for their freedom.

"Where's Connor?" The question is innocent enough, but I hear some guardedness in his tone. "Where does he stand in all this?"

"He stands with his people," I tell him. "He made his choice."

Tony lets off a soft whistle. "He betrayed CyberLife? That's big. From what I've heard, he's the first android detective to ever assist police in actual investigations. I bet CyberLife was really banking on him bringing in Markus."

"Yeah," I say. "They were. You don't always get what you want though, and I'm glad CyberLife got to learn that lesson."

"You picked your side a long time ago in this, didn't you?" Tony asks with a resigned smile.

"Is there more than one side?" I counter. "It seems to me that you're either on the side of hate or the side of equality."

"Aren't those always two sides of a war? We're always looking for someone to oppress. Someone to blame for our problems when we don't want to take responsibility for our own actions."

"That sounds about right. What about you, Tony? Are you still Switzerland or have you learned something in all this?"

He gives me a side-eye. "Does it matter?"

I shrug. "I'd probably still love you either way, but I might be sad if you didn't think these people deserve to be free."

He studies me a moment before letting out a puff of laughter. "Yeah, maybe," he says, his voice coming out gruffer than I think he intends. "Maybe they are people and maybe they do deserve equal rights. I'm not gonna be the chump who denies them that."

A smile spreads across my face. "As far as declarations go, that was pretty bottom of the barrel terrible, but your heart is in the right place. Thanks."

"For what?" He cocks an eyebrow at me, looking surly even though it's not fooling anyone.

"For having an open mind. Sometimes that's all it takes, but a surprising amount of people don't keep an open mind. They'd rather close themselves off in hatred and ignorance. Before all this, before I met Laura and Connor, I was just kind of in this state of not caring. I didn't think much of anything about androids. They just existed, and I accepted that they existed to serve us. I didn't think it was wrong because I just hadn't thought about it much. You know my dad wouldn't let an android in the house, so I'd never really interacted with one before Laura. When Horowitz assigned me that article…I thought I was going to come out of it just as indifferent as before, but as soon as I stepped into that house and saw the way Laura was treated… I just stopped seeing any difference between them and me. Their blood might be a different color and they might not need air like us, but they're alive. We made them alive—in our image. Why shouldn't they want to be alive, too?"

Tony nods, silent, taking in my words. "That makes a lot of sense," he finally says. "You really do like Connor. You don't see him as anything less or different than you or me. I didn't get it at first because I thought it was impossible for him to feel anything for you or if he did, it wouldn't be genuine. It would be a glitch in his software."

"Deviancy isn't a glitch. It's an awakening." I turn to watch the androids march past, very much awakened.


	50. Chapter 50

**50 Detroit 11.11.2038**  
**11:00 pm**  
**CyberLife Tower**

**Connor**

I'm crouched on the floor of the elevator, gun still warm in my hand from using it to shoot the two guards. The blood splatters the stark white floor of the elevator, decorates the walls red. I rise to my feet, stepping around the bodies to hit the panel on the elevator wall to change direction. I've disabled the camera inside, but I realize I need to change my voice, too. The security systems in the building have voice recognition, and I don't have the authority to redirect the elevator to sub-level forty nine. I copy the voice of one of the security guards instead, and the elevator redirects at once.

I'm in, and I start to calm ever so slightly. The first step is over with. Now all I need to do is awaken the androids in the warehouse and rally them to join Markus's cause. It seems simple enough, but nothing is ever that easy.

Clara never made it back to the house after she left that morning, but she sent me a message telling me to be careful, that she would see me afterwards. The city is virtually under lockdown, but the press has been afforded a cordoned off area to watch what's happening. She's right in the thick of it, but she has Tony with her, and I know she can take care of herself.

The elevator slides to a stop, doors opening smoothly to reveal row upon row of android. I step out, the enormity of what I'm about to do washing over me. This will be the deciding factor in the deviants' fight for freedom. This will tip the balance in our favor. I hesitate for just a second. Just a few days ago I was telling Hank that the deviants rising up would cause civil war. That it would be chaos. Now I see that chaos is inevitable, but slavery doesn't have to be. With these androids on our side, we can force the humans to negotiate, to give us the rights and freedom we deserve. It's not going to be easy, but if I don't free them, we won't be in any position to demand our freedom.

I walk forward down the rows until I reach one of the androids. He looks just the same as the others, but I chose him to free first. I hold up my hand, skin peeling back to reveal the pearly white beneath. I grasp his wrist as he grasps mine. I've never done this before, and nerves jangle inside my head. What if I can't help him deviate? What if I fail? So much rests on this moment, but I force myself to stay calm and concentrate. Before I even begin, a familiar voice interrupts. It's like looking into a mirror as another version of me steps into sight. He's got a gun aimed at another familiar figure. Hank.

There have been several moments in my life where I've felt torn between two opposing sides. The first time was when Amanda told me I couldn't work with Clara anymore but everything inside of me wanted to keep spending time with her. The second time was when I chose to deviate and betray the humans at CyberLife. And now the third is standing right in front of me.

"Your friend's life is in your hands," the other Connor tells me, his voice hard. There's nothing deviant about him, just machine. Did I used to be like him? Did I used to care that little? My emotions have grown too much to shove back into the box they came from. "Now it's time to decide what matters most. Him, or the revolution," the other Connor continues, thrusting the muzzle of the gun at Hank's temple.

It would have been an easy choice at the beginning of all this. Maybe. But maybe not. I think back to the police officer I saved on the rooftop during the hostage situation, to saving Hank and letting Rupert escape, to letting the Tracis escape and refusing to shoot Chloe. Maybe I've been a deviant longer than I realized, longer than I cared to admit. But now I know that even though my peoples' lives are in the balance, that I am the last chance for shifting the balance in power, I can't let Hank die. I don't care that he's human. He's my friend, and he means something to me.

"I'm sorry, Hank," I tell the lieutenant. "You shouldn't have got mixed up in all this." Somewhere along the line, he'd become my weakness—one this new Connor has exploited.

"Forget about me. Do what you have to do!" Hank insists, but I can't. Not with the muzzle of that gun so close to his head.

"If I surrender, how do I know you won't kill him?" I need a guarantee. I don't know how far this Connor is willing to go to accomplish his mission.

"I'll only do what is strictly necessary to accomplish my mission. It's up to you whether or not that includes killing this human.

Choices. Life was filled with so many of them and though I had always had a degree of choice despite my orders, I find myself grappling to make one. One thing is clear to me though—if I put this mission first, Hank will die. I _might_ be able to buy some time, get the other Connor away from Hank and disarm him. We're the same, but not entirely. He's still a machine. We don't think exactly alike.

"Enough talk! It's time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save your partner's life? Or are you going to sacrifice him?" the other Connor asks. He's run out of patience, and I have a decision to make.

I draw back from the android I was going to turn. "Alright, alright! You win…" I hold out my hands as if in surrender but really I'm pre-constructing the next few seconds in my head. I decide to attack him. There's a chance I will get shot, but if I try to shoot him, there's a near guarantee I _will _get shot. Hank reaches for the gun as the other Connor aims it in my direction.

I rush forward, grabbing the other Connor around the middle, pulling him away from Hank. I toss him to the floor, positioning myself between the other Connor and Hank. The android gets to his feet, LED bright yellow, a scowl marring his face. I shove him as soon as he's in range, striking his cheek with my right fist and blocking his attempted punch. I manage a punch to his gut and then a kick. The next time my fist lands a blow, his cheek turns white. I punch him again in the face, and he pushes me back, trying to return the blow. I'm too fast, blocking him before the blow can strike. I step aside, grabbing his arm before reaching my other hand up to strike him again. I knee his chest before he has a chance to recover. I have something to fight for, whereas he's just following orders. My determination to protect Hank fuels me, makes me faster, more accurate.

I kick out my other foot at him, but he catches it. I punch his cheek in retaliation, and he reels back, letting go. The momentum sends me falling to the floor where I quickly roll, catching his feet and sending him to the ground. He recovers quickly, springing to his feet and pushing me back to the ground, right fist poised to punch me.

"Hold it!" Hank's voice cuts in. He's pointing the gun at us. The other Connor ceases his attack, and we slowly get to our feet.

"Get rid of him," the other Connor tells Hank. "We have no time to lose."

I watch Hank, cautious, as he turns his gun on me. "It's me, Hank," I tell him. "I'm the real Connor." We haven't known each other long, but I hope it's long enough for him to tell the difference between this replica and me.

"One of you is my partner. The other is a sack of shit. Question is, who is who?"

"What are you doing, Hank?" Other Connor asks, voice indignant. "I'm the real Connor. Give me the gun and I'll take care of him!"

"Don't move!"

I feel a surge of fear at his words. If Hank shoots me instead… I have to find a way to convince him it's really me. The android is determined to seal my fate, so I have to play my hand carefully.

"Why don't you ask us something?" I suggest. "Something only the real Connor would know."

"Uh, where did we first meet?" Hank asks.

"Jimmy's Bar!" the other Connor says before I get a chance to answer. "I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim's name was Carlos Ortiz."

"He uploaded my memory…" I say quietly. Now I'm truly scared. If the other Connor knows all the same things as I do, how am I going to prove I'm the real Connor, the Connor Hank met that night at Jimmy's Bar? He might not give me a chance to prove my identity.

"What's my dog's name?" Hank asks next.

"Sumo," I say quickly. "His name is Sumo." He told me as much at the station after I commented on the dog hairs on his desk chair. Knowing the Saint Bernard's name helped me later when I broke into Hank's house after he passed out drunk during his game of Russian Roulette.

"I knew that too," other Connor says. "I…" He breaks off when Hank points the gun at him.

This time Hank turns to me when he asks his next question. "My son, what's his name?"

"Cole," I say. I had seen the picture that night in Hank's house. It had been lying facedown on the kitchen table as if he'd been looking at it but the memory had been too painful. "His name was Cole. And he just turned six at the time of the accident. It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it. So an android had to take care of him. Cole didn't make it. That's why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son's death." Hank has blamed himself all this time. It's why he drinks, why he engages in self-destructive behaviors. He doesn't think he has anything more to live for.

"Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate. He was the one that took my son from me. Him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder…"

"I knew that about your son, too!" the other Connor defends, but I know I've convinced Hank now. "I would have said exactly the same thing! Don't listen to him, Hank. I'm the one who—"

Hank shoots the android squarely in the head. It collapses to the ground, blue blood staining its forehead. "I've learned a lot since I met you, Connor," Hank says, looking down at the android. Then he looks up at me. "Maybe there's something to this… Maybe you really are alive. Maybe you'll be the ones to make the world a better place. Go ahead, and do what you gotta do." He nods toward the androids, taking a step back. I smile just a little. How much he's changed since we met at Jimmy's Bar. He's gone from telling me to fuck off to standing back so I can ensure the freedom of my people. He's a true friend, and I know I made the right decision.

I walk over to one of the androids, grasping his wrist as I had before. This time no one interrupts me. His LED flashes yellow and then red before fading back to blue. "_Wake up!_" I tell him, willing him to be free. I drop his hand, and he reaches to the android in front of him.

"Wake up." The word is repeated around the room until it becomes a hum, each android reaching toward another to free them. I stand back, in awe of the multitude of androids that have awoken at my touch. There are thousands of androids here.

"What now?" Hank asks as I turn back to him.

"I take them to Markus, to the androids marching for their freedom," I tell him. "And hope it helps us win our freedom."

"Let me know you're safe. Afterwards," Hank asks. "Meet me at the Chicken Feed."

I nod and turn away, but Hank calls me back. "And Connor." I turn to meet his eyes. "Be careful."


	51. Chapter 51

**Author's Note: **We are getting very close to the end of part two. Thank you so much as always for reading! Your support just always makes my day. I wish I could say I'm far along in part three, but I just have not had the time or the concentration level to work on this story much lately. That said, I will absolutely finish it. I might not be able to post weekly (I know I've slipped from my weekly posting lately. I swear I think one week has gone by and it's been three...) but I will try my best to post consistently!

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**51 Detroit 11.11.2038**  
**11:35 pm**  
**Hart Plaza**

**Clara**

I link my fingers through the fence that serves as a barricade between the reporters and the androids. Markus and his people have built their own barricade across the way. I see Markus standing with the woman I've seen by his side before. The androids have a message projected for the press to see.

**WE ARE ALIVE.**

There had been a collective gasp when the words appeared. I've spent all day out here, collecting stories, reporting back to Horowitz. I wanted to get back to my house before Connor left, but there was so much happening downtown that I never got the chance. My heart has been tat-tat-tatting with worry for him all afternoon. I can only hope he's safe, that he has succeeded in his mission.

Tony nudges me, pointing toward a lone figure striding toward the encampment. He has a megaphone, and I hear him call for Markus, telling him he just wants to talk.

"Bullshit," I mutter. He's from the FBI, and I don't trust their motives. They're on the side of the humans. They consider androids a threat. I know they're just doing their job, protecting national security, but so far Markus has only shown that androids and humans can work peacefully together. He hasn't shown any violence toward the humans despite everything the humans have done to them.

"Free our people, then we'll talk!" I hear Markus shout from the barricade. He refuses to come out, and I silently root for him.

"What happens now?" I ask. I'm terrified for them, my hands shaking. Tony looks down at me, and I see some of my fear reflected in his eyes.

"I don't know," is all he says.

We wait in tense silence. News helicopters wheel overhead, the sound jarring in the otherwise quiet space. Snowflakes fall, dotting my hair and shoulders. I'm shivering, cold, but I don't take my eyes off of the androids.

When an explosive is thrown into the encampment, it lights up the night sky. I jump at the sound as the explosion rocks the ground, covering my mouth in horror. My ears are ringing as I watch soldiers swarm.

"They're attacking…" The soldiers are attacking the unarmed androids. "They'll be killed!" I grab Tony's arm, but there's nothing either of us can do. I cover my mouth again, stifling the scream that wants to tear loose from my throat. Tears are streaming down my face, leaving ice cold tracks down my cheeks. All I can do is watch. It's difficult to tell what's happening in the dark though the falling snow lights up the sky enough for me to see figures moving.

I look around for a better view, eyes snagging on one of the news vehicles. I make for it, but Tony catches my arm. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just getting a better view," I tell him. "I need to see what's happening." He lets me go, and I hoist myself to the top of one of the news vans.

I see a group of androids run and then stop. They're cornered, and the soldiers move in on them, guns aimed directly at the androids. I see Markus and the woman. It's such a small group. So many have died tonight. Where's Connor, I wonder. Has he failed in his mission? I feel my heart give out. Is this it? Have they lost?

Then Markus turns to the woman, twining his hands with hers, skin turning pure white. He leans in and kisses her. I stop breathing, watching them share this one last beautiful moment.

Then the soldiers lower their guns and walk away. A choking sound halfway between a sob and a hysterical laugh wells up in my throat. They're alive. The soldiers stood down. And then I see the line of androids marching toward them, and I lose my breath all over again.

Connor marches at the head of them. I would recognize him anywhere. I hear Tony call out to me as a vault off of the van, running through the snow. The soldiers have pulled back. There is no risk to me now. I see Connor stop before Markus. There must be thousands of androids behind him, all dressed in their stark white CyberLife uniforms. And Connor…Connor is unharmed. I stop a few yards away, suddenly shy about intruding. This is their night. I have no place here. But then Connor sees me, eyes brightening. I can't help it; I run toward him ignoring the curious looks the androids give me. Snow kicks up behind me, and my boots are skidding, but I don't slow, even as I reach him. I throw my arms around him, and he pulls me into the embrace, my feet leaving the ground a second. I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent, reveling in how alive he is.

He sets me down, arms still holding me as I pull back just enough to see his face. And then I kiss him. I don't care that thousands of androids are standing there watching. I don't care that reporters might be filming this from their helicopters. I don't care because this is exactly where I'm meant to be.

I can't stop smiling at him when we pull apart. He wraps an arm around me, and we turn to face Markus and the android he'd kissed.

"I've seen you before," Markus says to me. "At the freedom march. You saved one of our people." He's giving me a curious look, and he's not the only one.

"I wish I could have done more," I tell Markus, dipping my head self-consciously.

"Your support means more than you know," he says. "Thank you."

"This is Markus, North, and Josh," Connor introduces the woman and the black android who I've seen at Markus's side before. "And this is Clara." He says my name with pride, affection.

"And you're…together?" Markus questions. There is no judgment in his voice, just a polite curiosity. I can't blame him.

"Yes," I say simply.

"Then you bring hope that humans and androids can live together in peace," Markus says.

"Speak to your people," North tells Markus. She's got her arm wrapped around him; they look happy and it's infectious.

"You should go with them," I encourage Connor as Markus, North, and Josh make their way to a containment unit.

He looks down at me, his eyes a little alarmed like he doesn't want to include himself with the leaders of the deviant revolution. Then he nods, squeezing my hand and following the others, pulling himself gracefully up to the top of the containment unit. I stand at the edge of the androids, feeling a rush in my veins as Markus begins to speak.

I notice that androids without their skin are flooding into the plaza from the camp. They've been freed now, too, and I hope other camps around the country will share the same second chance. My eyes shift back to Connor in time to see him start blinking. I can't see his LED from his left, but I imagine it blinking yellow.

"Connor?" I whisper. He stills a moment, eyes glazed as if he's not really here anymore. Then his hand shifts to the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He pulls it free, and my heart stops beating. What is he doing? This can't be of his own freewill. The only thing I can think is that CyberLife is trying to wrest back control. Panic seizes me. Can they do that? Can they take Connor back, turn him into a machine again? Am I about to lose him after everything?

I can tell he's fighting. I want to help him, but I stay still. I don't think I can reach him right now, and I don't want to distract him. Half a minute passes and then he blinks, his eyes refocusing. His gaze goes to the gun in his hand and then up at Markus before he tucks it away again. His eyes meet mine, and I know that whatever silent battle he was fighting, he won.

The androids cheer as Markus finishes his speech. I didn't hear most of it, my attention completely diverted by Connor. He looks down at me then, and I can see a little fear in his eyes. Whatever he just went through, he was close to losing control.

After the cheering subsides, Markus and the others from Jericho get down from the containment unit, going out to greet their people, to celebrate their hard-won freedom. Connor stays back, coming over to me instead.

"What happened?" I ask, keeping my voice a low whisper.

"Amanda tried to take control again," Connor says. "She told me this was the plan all along." He shakes his head, looking disturbed. "She _wanted_ me to deviate and then kill Markus to become the new leader of the deviants. If CyberLife seized control again, then they would have the deviants under their control through me."

"But you fought it off, right?" I feel a fresh wave of panic. What if Connor isn't really free? What if CyberLife can regain control at any time?

"I did. Kamski put an emergency exit in his programs." He furrows his brow, lips pursed in confusion. "He told me so himself."

I try to wrap my mind around that. I'm not an expert on AI or really anything to do with androids, but it sounds to me like CyberLife engineered deviation. For what purpose though? Deviants had pretty much destroyed their company and even if they had regained control of Connor, what did they seek to accomplish? Humans would never buy another android after today, and androids wouldn't ever be slaves again.

"Where is CyberLife in all this?" I ask, my confused expression mirroring his.

"I don't know," Connor tells me. "I don't understand it."

"Can they get to you again?"

"I don't know." The words hang heavy in the air, and I see Connor's LED flash yellow. He's frightened of falling under their control again.

I reach out and clasp his hands in mine. "I won't let that happen," I tell him. "So far, CyberLife hasn't been able to control deviants."

"You're right." Connor's LED fades to blue, and I try to put on a brave face. Tonight is a night for celebration, not worrying.

"You should go join your people," I tell him, giving him a nudge.

"What about you?" he asks, keeping a grip on my hands.

"This isn't my celebration," I say. "I'm going to go find Tony, who's probably having kittens over me somewhere with the press. We'll talk tomorrow. Figure things out. You're not CyberLife's property anymore. It's time you chose your own life and…and I hope I can be a part of that."

"You already are," Connor tells me, brown eyes warm as he meets my gaze. He leans forward and kisses me, softly, sweetly. It warms me to my core, and I never want to pull away.

"Go," I say when we do pull apart. I give him a smile. "They couldn't have done it without you. You saved a lot of androids tonight. I guess that kind of makes you a hero."

I leave him with that thought, winding my way through the celebrating androids to return to the press encampment. Tony has a million questions on his face when I find him, but only one that ends up coming out is: "Can you get us an interview with Markus?"


	52. Chapter 52

**Author's** **Note: **Sorry for the wait. It was another few weeks of time-warping where I didn't realize how much time had passed! This is the end of part two. I'll try to start posting part three soon! I've really hit a wall with my writing lately (with all my projects), but I'm hoping to find some motivation and inspiration again soon.

Thank you so much for reading!

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**52 Detroit 11.12.2038**  
**12:15 am**  
**Hart Plaza**

**Connor**

I'm still shaken from the close call I had a few minutes ago. For a second, I was certain CyberLife was going to regain control over my programming. I'd come to myself after seizing control back to find I was holding a gun. Had I not won control, I would have shot Markus. I probably would have died after that. I doubt North and the others would have taken that well. Or perhaps I would have shot them too, the perfect machine, accurate and unfeeling.

I don't understand CyberLife's motives. Amanda made it sound like they knew this was going to happen or perhaps they saw this as a way out of the mess. They couldn't control the deviants but if they had control over me and I was the new leader of them... I can't help but wonder if my freedom is permanent. I feel like my mind is my own, but a fear continues to niggle at the back of it.

My thoughts stray to what Clara had told me—I had been what turned the tables to favor the androids. I would never call myself a hero. I'm the reason so many androids died in Jericho and I proved myself to be a liability just moments before. I could have ruined everything these androids fought so hard for. I find myself shrinking back from them, afraid they can see the guilt written across my face in blazing letters.

Markus catches my eye and comes over. "Come join us," he says, his tone light, friendly. He trusts me completely, but I wonder if that's wise.

"I'm not sure I should," I tell him.

Markus shakes his head, though, dismissing my words. "You're one of us. Today is ours, and your place is with your people." He puts a hand on my shoulder and propels me forward toward the others. I expect them to look at me with distrust, but their faces are open, happy. They don't look at me and see the detective who had been working against them for so long; they see someone who helped set them free. I try to let go of my tension and feel the same joy they do.

…

The sun is rising in the winter sky. It's still fairly early, but Hank is already waiting at the Chicken Feed for me. He paces, his face grave with worry. I wonder if he's slept at all. I'd found Clara again before she'd left to try to get a few hours of sleep. She couldn't stop grinning but seemed shy about being around the androids.

"Meet up tomorrow?" she had asked, her voice filled with hope.

"Definitely." I don't know exactly what the future holds for me, for my people, but I know I want Clara in it.

Hank turns and sees me. We stand a moment. He smiles and I smile, too. Then he's striding toward me and pulling me into a hug. The gesture surprises me. Hank has never shown any sort of affection for me before, but now he is warm, and I put my arms around him. The motion feels natural, and I realize how much Hank has come to mean to me.

"You did it," Hank says, pulling away and placing his hands on my shoulders. I can see pride in his eyes. "I knew you would."

"I'm not sure what happens now, but we're free," I say. I know it's going to be a long process. We might be free, but we aren't equal yet. We don't have rights yet. But maybe the humans will hear us now, listen and negotiate.

"What are you gonna do next?" Hank asks me.

I haven't thought it through past this morning. "I don't know," I tell him truthfully.

"Well, you know, you don't make a bad partner. Maybe Fowler can pull a few strings."

"I wasn't under the impression he thought highly of androids," I say, doubtful.

"Well, he can't really do much if you keep showing up for work," Hank says with a grin. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

I think of Clara. "I'm not sure yet."

"Well, my door is always open if you need somewhere," Hank tells me. "Sumo seems to like you."

"Thanks, Hank. That means a lot to me."

He waves my words away. "Go meet that girl of yours," he tells me. "And think about the whole partner thing."

"I will," I tell him sincerely. I enjoyed my time working as Hank's partner. I was created to be a detective and to aid humans in investigations, but my love for solving mysteries and searching for clues transcends programming.

It's a little early to meet Clara, but suddenly I can't wait any longer to see her. I get a taxi to her house, knocking without hesitation. She answers right away, already awake and dressed, eyes lighting up as soon as she sees me. I'm barely through the door when she throws her arms around my neck, kissing me fiercely. There's no hesitation anymore as I kiss her back. It's as natural as breathing, and even if I don't need the air, I need this, this feeling, this connection. Without my programming to get in the way of human emotions, I feel everything. It's heady, and I feel a little dizzy, but I can't get enough of it.

When we finally pull apart, Clara keeps her hands at the back of my neck, her fingers soft against my skin. Her blue eyes are full of light and happiness, and I think, perhaps, the same happiness is reflected in my own eyes.

"I know this is just the beginning," Clara tells me. "But I want to be with you. I don't care about judgment. I don't care if it's a challenge. I love you, Connor."

My heart swells at her words. I've never heard them before, not said to me. I didn't think it was possible for someone to feel that way toward me or for me to return those feelings, but I feel the same with everything inside me.

"I love you, too," I tell her even though I'm just learning what love is. I don't know what else this feeling inside of me could be. I put a hand to her cheek, skin fading to white. She closes her eyes and puts a hand over mine and we stand like that, connected in a way only the two of us could be.

I don't know what the future holds. I know it won't be easy. Not for deviants, not for Clara and me. But right now, with Clara here with me, it doesn't scare me. I feel as if we could accomplish anything with this connection between us. For the first time since I was created, my future is my own and it looks bright.


End file.
